A Blossoming Rose
by cl0ser-to-the-edge
Summary: This tale encircles the life and travels of young Rosemary Cousland, as she battles ferocious creatures, allies with exotic characters, and overcomes her own internal wars. Do not fret, there will be plenty of lovely, romantic Alistair bits along the way! Btw, picture belongs to the talented Aimo on deviantart!
1. Chapter 1

_She sat holding herself in the dead of night, listening to the chirps of crickets and the faint howls of prowling wolves. Alit only by the soft, grey haze that shone through the moon, the woodland was alive and sang eerie tunes of a dark tale; distance separated the group by a choir of vociferous creatures that chanted to one another. Her dog lay curled by the crackling fire, snoring like a great bear and pawing at his wet nose every so often. The man that led she and her pet there had slipped into the shadows, watching over the girl and her guard dog like the Maker would his very own children, and he waited for the orange streams of dawn to rise from the hills. He heard the girl crying by the fire, but remained silent by the trees and stood vigilant for the chance of any monsters that would crawl from the blackened woods. Tears poured from her eyes like raindrops from a cloud, and she felt that her cheeks and ears were burning. Burning so wrathfully with hatred and fury._

_She wondered if her dearest friend, quite simply her only human friend, had escaped the clutches of the betrayer, and thought what the last of her family had succumbed to. But he, the man in the darkness, her guardian angel of how she thought, told her there was no turning back. It would only get herself murdered. Which, in fact, he was right. The evil bastard and his men would show no mercy. But what if there was something she could have done? Could she have made them come with her? They told her to go and do something in this perilous world, to make something of herself, to become a hero. But how would she do it?_

_He finally emerged from the shadows of the trees and stood by the wide log, clasping his hands together and rubbing them over the flames. _"There is no danger tonight,"_ he informed. He was wise, a good man. A leader. He gave a soft look to the weeping girl next to him, then sat on the ground and rested against the log. _"You need rest, my lady,"_ he spoke quietly over the calls of night owls and the faint murmur of river water cutting through pointed stones. _"We rise at dawn. And once we reach Ostagar, you shall become one of us."_ He offered a hand on her shoulder, to which she was enlightened to receive comfort. He gave another kind stare to the girl, then closed his brown eyes and drifted away. She, however, remained awake for quite a long time, clearing her watered eyes of the welled tears and listening to the sounds within the darkness. She thought of what the others would be like, the ones she would meet the next day. But soon she became weary of thinking and laid her head down onto the forest floor, bits of leaves and dirt clinging to her auburn hair. She, too, sank into slumber, but it was not quite the tiredness she felt that put her to sleep, but the strange anxiety of revisiting the nightmare she had earlier that night, the dream she experienced before the true horrors began._

At last, Rosemary finally made it to her father's private study. The young woman had to take all of the secret passages so she wouldn't get caught sneaking around places she shouldn't be. Her mother always said she had a knack for just "disappearing" at times… oh well, this time her curiosity _**really**_ got the best of her.

She wasn't sure if she truly believed the rumors of a fifth Blight approaching. Not only from the suspicious tongues of those from afar, but also that she herself had not yet seen the demons described as such.

"_Darkspawn"_, said one of the many commoners of the castle; he was answering her question to just what exactly these corrupted beings were. _"All I can tell ya', kid, is that they're bad. Real bad. They'll slaughter anythin' in sight. They'll eat the meat that covers yer bones and gulp down yer blood like it was a pint o' ale. Don't believe me? Hehe, well, you just get out there and see fer yerself." _

That's what she wanted to do. Get out and, literally, see it for herself. But could she? Could she actually slice _**her**_ blades through a horde of darkspawn and feel like a hero for once, rather than the woman who organized papers and tended to boring, royal matters? She was trained in the art of dueling weapons; they all were. Just in case they needed extra recruits for battle. So, was she allowed to ride into the heat of the battle itself, too? Oh, no, she definitely wasn't. Of course, her brother was guaranteed to ride with their father out into the battle itself, taking his sword and running it through the chests of thousands of darkspawn. She pleaded several times, _"__**Please**__, Father, can I please just go with you and Fergus? I wish to fight too! Give me a chance!", _but his answer was always the same._"Rosemary, you __**must**__ stay here with your mother. You know it is too dangerous for you; your skill in using daggers isn't __**near**__ what it should be to fight even the smallest and weakest of darkspawn. I'm sorry." _

So every day after she would practice outside the castle, honing her techniques against a wooden dummy she made herself. _'One sword slices, the other one blocks' _the girl thought in her mind as she stabbed at the chest of the dummy (or just the fluffy pillow that replaced it). Rosemary repeated the motto over and over again, attacking various parts of the fake enemy as she did so. Then, after a week or so, she would go back to her father and ask the same question, only this time explaining to him that she had been practicing for hours and hours each day.

The excited girl even took him outside and showed him how much she had improved, striking at the homemade dummy as he stood watching her, feathers spewing from slits in the cloth. But his answer remained the same. The same _"I'm sorry, but no. I will admit, you have gotten better- a lot better at that. But your duty is to stay with your mother and watch over the castle while were gone."_ He would then walk back into the castle, leaving her there, alone and full of disappointment, leading her to believe that all that time she spent refining her skills was just a waste of time.

After a few minutes of staring down at the bright green grass that waved through the wind's cool breeze, Rosemary had darted inside the castle. She ran into the crowd of people and up the flight of stairs that rose to the second floor. She sprinted to the end of the long hallway and to the last door on the right, the door that led to her bedroom. She grabbed the knob and twisted it, slamming her body into the wood as she did so. Her dog suddenly looked up from taking a light nap at the foot of her wide divan, the thing that she went and plopped onto the second she stepped in. Rosemary buried her face into the blankets, her legs hanging off the side of the bed; she groaned with frustration and utter disappointment. The girl felt a soft nudge on the back of her foot. She kept her face hidden and stretched her arm out, trying to find the dog's head. He walked over to her hand and licked it with his long tongue; she stroked his brown head and scratched his floppy ears.

"_Oh Thaddeus",_ she said, sitting up on her comfy bed, crossing her legs, _"why won't they let me go and fight?" _

He cocked his head at the question.

"_You could come with me," _she continued._ "You are a purebred mabari war hound, you know. The darkspawn would cower at the sight of you, I bet. And I mean that in the absolute best of ways." _

Thaddeus barked happily and wagged his short tail. He really was a war hound- he wasn't meant to spend his life locked away in a huge castle.

"_Maybe he'll change his mind,"_ she murmured, jumping off her bed and getting ready for supper.

Rosemary pushed the door quietly behind her and held her breath. She pressed her ear to the wood to hear if anyone was coming. She could only make out the voices of barking soldiers and gossiping men and women, so hopefully no one had followed her trail. She sighed with relief, leaning against the wooden door behind her and taking a good look around the dark room; thank the Maker she remembered to bring a lantern.

Dust stuck to many things, especially on the large bookshelves. Complex spider webs had been weaved into each corner of the study, and the floorboards squeaked with each step she took. She wondered why a room would come to a state like this; they lived in a royal castle, did they not?

Rosemary walked to one of the glass windows that, despite being smothered in dust and debris, could still be seen through. Miles and miles of deep valleys and enormous trees enclosed the city of Highever, all except the few paths that cut through the terrain and led to the many other wonders throughout the kingdom of Ferelden. It truly was one of the most magnificent countries in all of Thedas, from what her family had told her.

She turned from the window and stepped to the bookshelf on the left side of the study, brushing her hair out of her eye. A bright color, the shade of a monotone orange, shone over many books as she waved the lantern in front of the tall structure. She slowly used her empty hand to clear away the sheet of dust that hid the titles of the novels. A grey cloud of choking matter was created as the debris was swept away, and she desperately held back the need to cough loudly. After a moment, the names of the books were revealed, and she started to search for the one she was after in particular. The lantern floated in the darkness, emitting a useful flame of light as she read book titles. Her eyes eventually gazed upon the novel she had been hunting for. She narrowed her eyes to make sure it was the correct one. The title Recorded History of Blights was stitched with fine golden material onto the spine of the book. Rosemary smiled and gently pulled the book from its place and into her free hand.

It was a very peculiar item; its pages were protected by a cover made of rough purple leather, and the pages themselves were mottled and hard. Rosemary placed the lantern on a desk near the shelves of books so she could inspect the book with both of her hands. She carefully opened the novel, her fingers barely touching the corners of the pages.

Recorded History of Blights was a book written by a group of various people who had fought in and experienced a Blight before. They had individually wrote down their own views of what a Blight was and what kind of monsters appeared with it. There were several pages, though; a hundred or more that had been left blank for someone to fill in when they experienced a Blight of their own.

The young woman turned to different chapters, some titled _"The First Blight: How It Changed Us All" _as well as_ "The Thaw: Executing the Last of Them" _and others such as _"Darkspawn: Every Man's Living Nightmare"_ and _"Grey Wardens: The Heroes of Ferelden"_. Although these chapters were very enthralling, there was a certain page she was looking for that stood out from the rest.

A-ha, _"The Archdemon"._ Rosemary grazed her finger over the old page. The black ink was slightly faded and the middle of the page was creased. It was difficult to read, but she could just barely make out the words.

"_The Archdemon is the center of evil, the beast that leads darkspawn to destroy humanity. It is the most fearsome and ungodly creature that mankind has ever witnessed. It takes the most courageous of Grey Wardens to even set foot in the Archdemon's presence, as well as the mightiest of champions to eliminate the creature. Not only does it require powerful strength to defeat the Archdemon, but high intelligence and willpower are a keen aspect to kill the monster in order to end the Blight." _

As she was reading about the Archdemon, a peculiar section caught her interest:

_**"In Darkness eternal they searched,  
For those who had goaded them on,  
Until at last they found their prize,  
Their god, their betrayer:  
The sleeping dragon Dumat. Their taint Twisted even the false-god, and the whisperer  
Awoke at last, in pain and horror, and led  
Them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world:  
The first Blight." **_ _**  
**__**-Threnodies 8:7 **_

Rosemary was deeply interested now, fascinated even. She had no idea this is what lied within the Blight: an Archdemon that was summoned by the darkspawn and must be slain to end the Blight. But what really had her intrigued was the section of the Grey Wardens, the ones capable of destroying the Archdemon. She immediately flipped to the chapter, but before she could barely begin reading, a thin white light grew larger and larger on the opposite side of the room. She gasped and looked up from the book, only to find her mother peeking through the doorway. She quietly stepped in, unaware that her daughter was on the other side of the room.

"Rosemary?" she whispered, walking to the back corner of the study. "Are you in here, dear?"

She quickly closed the book and placed it onto the desk. The girl grabbed the lantern, shining it her way. "Yes, Mother," she answered. "Over here." The woman turned and faced her, her face alit with the luminosity of Rosemary's glass lantern.

"There you are!" she said. "I've been looking all over the place for you! Phew, an old woman such as myself shouldn't be chasing her daughter around, at least not in a giant castle!"

Her mother, who had apparently been searching high and low for her, was not as old as she described herself to be. Yes, she was in her early fifties and she had ash colored hair that flowed richly down her back, but her skin and face were as smooth and flat as an apple. Her eyes were radiant with the hue of hazel (Rosemary supposed that's where she got her eye color from and not her father's bright blue). She seemed to be in perfect condition.

"My, my", she said as she walked towards her daughter, glancing around the room, "Bryce sure hasn't been in here for a while, has he? Look at all of this dust!" She stood in front of Rosemary and gave a puzzled expression. "I suppose he hasn't had time, what with the many duties he's had to attend to these days. I didn't think I would find you here," her mother said, crossing her arms, "so what exactly are you doing?"

Her mother and father did _**not**_ approve of her fighting in the battle. But they also didn't really like it when she informed herself about darkspawn or the Blight itself, either. She wasn't sure why, but she guessed that they didn't ever want her getting in a situation, such as the Blight, in which she might get herself killed. But the inquisitive girl couldn't help it this time.

Before she could answer her, Rosemary's mother noticed the book that she was trying to hide behind her. She stepped next to the desk, examining the novel about the Blight._ "_Recorded History of Blights_…"_ she mumbled as she studied the book in her hands.

"Mother", Rosemary said as she studied the item, "I can explain; really, I can. There was a section about Grey Wardens that-"

She cut her off. "If you're asking to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens, then I would suspect you would know the answer, correct?"

The girl didn't know what to say. "What do you mean? I just wished to know more about them is all..." She thought for a moment. "Conscripted?"

"Save your breath, darling" her mother said, setting the book back onto the wooden desk. "Persuading your father to even let you ride into battle with he and Fergus is quite the challenge, and convincing him to allow you to become a Grey Warden is completely out of the question."

The old woman placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder and sighed. "We love you, Rosemary. Your father and I don't want you to be put into any sort of danger."

She nodded, though her curiosity was not satisfied. Why Fergus though? Why not she? She still yearned to learn of the legendary Grey Wardens. A _**lot**_ more, at that. And she still longed to be in the fight against darkspawn; that she was sure wasn't going to change her mind.

"Come now", her mother said, heading to the door, "Bryce wishes to see you in the Main Hall. There is someone he wants you to meet."

Rosemary was shocked. Who would want to meet her?

"Who is it?" she asked inquiringly.

"I'm not entirely sure," her mother replied as she began to exit the room, "but I know that Arl Howe is here with your Father." She turned to her daughter. "Do hurry, dear. I hear it is very important that you get to Father as soon as possible."

After her mother disappeared from the room, Rosemary quietly slipped the large book into her hands and behind her back, then ventured up to her bedroom and placed it inside of her knapsack.

The Main Hall was full of armed soldiers of Highever Castle. A tall man at the age of about forty-five or fifty stood in front of a large fireplace, staring at the flickering sparks coming from inside the fire. He rubbed his short grey beard that covered his face, thinking about the plan for the battle.

"I trust, then, that your troops will be here shortly?" he said to Arl Rendon Howe, a gray-haired man with an exceptionally large nose who stood a few feet behind him. "I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow."

Arl Howe glanced back and forth between his two guards that stood by his side. "I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault."

"No, no", the other man said, turning to Howe and his men. "The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself."

He walked to Arl Howe as the two guards left to perform other duties. "I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!"

Howe chuckled to himself. "True", he said. "Though we both had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not…monsters." The bearded man laughed. "At least the smell will be the same."

Rosemary stepped into the Main Hall. There were many soldiers lined up receiving orders from their commanders, and she saw her father and Arl Howe standing by the fireplace in the front of the long room. She hurried over to them, eager to be introduced to the man her father wanted her to meet.

"There you are, darling", her father said as she walked to him and Howe. She smiled at the both of them. "Howe, you remember my daughter?"

He nodded at her. "I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear."

"And you, Arl Howe", Rosemary said politely.

She glanced around the hallway, looking to see if she could find his family. The only people she saw were soldiers and distressed commoners.

"Is your family here, Arl Howe?" she asked.

"Oh, no", he answered, shaking his head, "I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. They do send their best wishes."

Howe grinned at her, showing his brilliant white teeth. "My son Tomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him next time."

She smiled back. "To what end?"

"Ha!" he said laughing and looked over at the girl's father, who snickered at the comment as well. "_To what end?_, she says! So glib, too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that."

She met Howe's family when she was a little girl, six or seven maybe. When they would visit the castle, his wife would always bake delicious peach pie, though it wasn't as good as her mother's homemade pumpkin pie, and bring it for them to eat. Their children would come as well, and they would always play innocent games around the castle. She remembered it like it was yesterday...

_A small girl hid behind a tall oak tree, holding her breath as she did so. She clutched her small fingers around the chafing bark, hoping that Delilah wouldn't find her pressed against the trunk. Her pigtails gently wavered in the wind's breeze, her long bangs brandishing in front of her hazel eyes. She looked ahead to see Tomas hiding inside a wide bush. He slowly poked his head through the leaves and stared at her, his brown hair sticking straight up. The girl giggled and motioned at him to get back in the bush, and he immediately went back inside and was out of sight. She heard a branch crack a few feet behind the tree and stood as still as a statue._

"Oh Rosemary…" _she heard Delilah say,_ "Tomas… come out come out wherever you are…"

_An exquisite butterfly appeared from around the corner of the tree. Its wings were the color of honey and the wings themselves were fairly large. It hovered in front of the thin girl's face, its antennas nearly touching her cheeks. It landed gently on her nose, fluttering its fragile wings against the tip of her nostrils. She squeaked with delight as it sat there motionless, thinking about where it would fly off to next. Delilah must have heard her laughing because she came running from where Tomas was hiding and over to where the amused girl stood._

"I see you, Rosemary!"_ she yelled, now only a yard or two from the tree. The girl squealed and started towards a stone birdbath. The butterfly flew from her face and back to the tree, resting on a wide branch amidst the green leaves and acorns._

_Tomas crawled out of the bush and rose to his feet, sprinting ahead of his sister and over to the darting child. _"Ha, she almost found me back there!"_ he said as they both ran to the birdbath, which was over near the entrance to the castle. The girl glanced behind her shoulder; Delilah was right on their trail._

_The two were almost to the safe spot when Delilah tackled them both to the ground. The three of them nearly died laughing as they tumbled to the grassy terrain. The smallest of them sat up, sprawling her legs out as she did so. Her pink dress was covered in grass stains and dirt, and she already knew that she would be scolded. But the girl paid no mind to her actions- she was having the time of her life!_

"Children!" _the smaller girl's mother called from a distance. She wore a blue satin dress and a diamond necklace around her neck; her blonde hair flourished in the cool breeze. She stood by a picnic table with the girl's father along with Tomas and Delilah's parents. _"Time for lunch!"

_They quickly got up and skipped to the picnic table, hungry for the broad layout of hot bowls and dishes, and especially a slice of pie from the heavens itself._

_The three scooted on one side of the table while the adults rested on the other. She sat on the end, Tomas sat in the middle, and Delilah sat on the other end. Their legs dangled off the bench, unable to touch the ground. The three of them reached out with their cutlery, but her mother shook her head and said _"Wait, dears. We must say a blessing."

_The child looked at Tomas and he shrugged his shoulders. They put the forks and spoons back on their platters and stared at the adults._

"Let us join hands"_, Howe's wife said, with a purr in her voice. She held her husband's hand, he held Rosemary's mother's, and she held Rosemary's father's. She stretched her arm out across the table to her father's hand. He enclosed his palm around hers, and she wrapped her short fingers around his hand._

_The girl giggled as Tomas gently held her right hand. He smiled at her, blushing as he did. He then took his other hand and held Delilah's. They bowed their heads, awaiting Arl Howe to say the prayer._

"See what I contend with, Howe?" her father said chuckling. Rosemary looked up from staring at the ground, the memory she was revisiting now an instant blur. "There is no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

"Quite talented, I'm sure," Howe commented. "One to watch."

She smiled, though she wasn't quite sure what he had said. The old memory of a day with the Howe's still lingered in her mind. She thought of how much she had aged, how tall she had gotten, how large and stout she had become. The innocence of her youth had now faded away. She was very fond of that reminiscence, so much so that she could still feel the breeze of that day, feel the blades of grass licking her ankles as she tossed through beds of flowers...

"At any rate, pup," her father said, binding his hands behind his back, "I summoned you here for a reason. You know that while Fergus and I are away I am leaving you in charge of the castle, correct?"

She nodded at him, still somewhat upset about the situation. "Yes, Father. I'll do my best."

"Now, _**that's**_ what I like to hear", he said patting her on the back. "Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Rosemary chuckled, as did Arl Howe. She guessed that watching over the entire Castle of Highever instead of riding into battle wasn't _**so**_ bad. She got the position to _'keep peace in the region'__… _momentarily, that is.

"There's also someone you must meet", her father said turning to the gates of the castle. "Guards, please…" he instructed to the men, "show Duncan in."

She was instantly filled with even more excitement (she thought she was all full up), wondering just who this person was that wished to meet her…her! The youngest of Teyrn Bryce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland! She wasn't very special or anything like that. Fergus, now that was another story. He was an exceptionally skilled fighter as well as the oldest. He was married, too, so perhaps that would make him seem more mature and important. But her…Rosemary Cousland?

A man stepped through the gates of the castle. He was older than her, that was for sure, but not as old as her father. He had jet black hair that was tied in a tight ponytail on the back of his head, and a dark colored beard that covered some of his face. He had two large daggers equipped- they were much more intimidating than the ones she had stored in the sheaths tied on her belt. She pondered who this could possibly be…

A guard accompanied him over to Father, Howe and she, then went back to standing in front of the huge gate.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said as he stood next to Father and Arl Howe. Rosemary stood in front of them, nervous to say anything at all.

"Your lordship," Howe stated to her father, a subtle hint of confusion and frustration in his tone, "you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

"Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced", her father explained to Howe. "Is there a problem?"

Howe shook his head. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol." He bit his lip. "I am…at a disadvantage."

In her head, Rosemary was jumping up and down, overjoyed that she was standing right in front of a Grey Warden! After today, she never even thought that she would get to read about them. But here she was, in the presence of one!

Her father turned his head to look at her. "We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true. Pup, do you know anything about Grey Wardens?"

She remembered that right before her mother walked into the study she skimmed a part of the chapter entitled _"Grey Wardens: The Heroes of Ferelden"_. She didn't read much, but she knew a thing or two about them.

"They're an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn long ago," she answered.

Her father nodded. "They are the heroes of legend, who ended the Blights and saved us all". He looked back at the Grey Warden and said "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow wardens in the south."

Right when Rosemary thought he was going to propose that she go with them, he stated "I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Her hopes were discouraged. She should have known he wouldn't have recommended her. After all that time she spent working her-

"If I might be so bold", Duncan said, setting his dark brown on eyes Rosemary, "I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened agape, and she looked to her father. He narrowed his eyes at his girl as her face beamed with a joyous grin.

"Honor though that might be," her father said assertively, "this is my daughter we're talking about."

Rosemary decided to voice her opinion. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I rather like the idea, Father."

He crossed his arms. "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle." He gave Duncan a worried expression. "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?"

Duncan shook his head. "Have no fear", he said. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

She stared at her father, a discouraged look upon her face. His eyes purged with a bit of regret, though he hid from her by quickly turning away, facing the burning fireplace behind him.

"Pup," he said quietly, "can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

She stared at the Grey Warden, his soft brown eyes looking into hers.

"Of course", Rosemary replied. Duncan smiled at her answer.

"In the meantime", her father said, turning back around so he showed his face, "find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

"But", she murmured, "I'd like to stay and talk to Duncan."

The Grey Warden shook his head. "We may speak later", he said. "I advise you do as your Father says."

Rosemary nodded at him respectively, though she masked her feelings of disappointment. He went on. "I will see you at dinner tomorrow, if not sooner."

"I look forward to it, sir."

"As do I."

"Rosemary", her father instructed, "Fergus is likely upstairs in his chambers, spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson." He smiled. "Be a good lass," he said. "We'll talk soon."


	2. Chapter 2

The castle was at its busiest today. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of armored soldiers were making preparations for the upcoming battle. Mass groups of merchants from all over came to sell their prized good, hoping to make a pocketful of sovereigns for their families. Rosemary hurried through the horde of people, trying to reach her brother's private quarters.

"Stop it!"_ she yelled._

_It was time for bed, and, Fergus, of course, stood on top of his bed, teasing his sister as she whined at the edge. Everyone had gone to sleep except for the two them. He had Alessa in his hands, her precious doll that Mother and Father had given her for her third birthday. She was six now and simply couldn't live without her._

_Fergus had his fingers wrapped around Alessa's small linen arm, her body dangling in the air. The girl whimpered, thinking that the thin white cloth that was bound within the doll's arm would suddenly tear apart from the rest of her body._

"Oh, come on",_ Fergus said, shaking Alessa in his hand, her rose colored dress waving in the air. _"Don't be a baby. Can't you survive one night without this thing?"

"No!"_ she cried, a small tear running down her cheek. _"Give her back to me!"

_Fergus scoffed. _"What if I don't?"_ he asked in a harsh manner. _"Are you going to go tell Mother like you **always** do?"_ The ten year old smirked. _"Because that's what you do. You can't stand up for yourself, you crybaby."

_His sister grit her teeth, clenching her small fists. _"That's not true!"

"Oh?"_ Fergus asked, now bouncing on top of the bed. Alessa's body jerked in his hand, the long brown strings stitched into her head flying above her._

"Fergus!"_ she screamed. He didn't listen as he continuously hopped on the mattress of his large bed._

_Should she have went and gotten Mother? Would that have made things easier, to not get in trouble but still be annoyed by her brother? It probably would've been, but to the child the easy way out didn't matter. What mattered was letting all the bottled up rage and anger (Fergus's Ongoing 1,000 Ways To Annoy His Sister, as she liked to call it) finally spill out into the world._

_She grabbed Fergus's legs, putting all of her strength, which had proven to be a great deal of, into them. He uttered a strange noise, his hands and legs wobbled, trying to regain balance. Alessa's arm was still enclosed in his hand, however, as she slammed Fergus off of the bed._

_There was a loud 'thud' as Fergus hit the wooden floor. He groaned with pain, curling up in a ball on the ground as he let loose of his grasp on the girl's doll._

_She crawled on top of the wide bed, her hands clawing into the silk sheets as she made her way over to her brother._

_She stepped over Fergus and carefully lifted Alessa off the floor. Her mouth was embroidered into a sweet smile, and her marble eyes were the shade of black. Thankfully, she hadn't been harmed._

_The child walked towards the door, cradling the doll in her arms, her bare feet sliding against the cold floor. A smirk formed onto her soft face as she giggled quietly. That'll show him._

_Before she left, the girl turned around and looked at Fergus. He sat up from his position, rubbing the back of his head. He gave his sister a dirty look as he clambered up onto his bed; the blankets were crinkled from where she had scrambled atop of it. Fergus jerked back the top of the silk and squirmed underneath the blankets. He hid his face by turning over and covering it with one of the cotton pillows._

"You'll get it, sister. Tomorrow I'll toss all your linens and such from your drawers into a huge mess and then… then you'll see."

"Good night",_ his sister said with a giggle as she stepped out of the doorway. All she got in return was a muffled groan in the darkness of her brother's bedroom._

Rosemary turned around amongst the crowd of people. She could have sworn someone called her name, but she wasn't sure. Several anonymous faces surrounded her, bumping into her sides and back as she stood unmoving, looking into the eyes of hundreds of people. Rosemary saw no one that stared back at her, no one who had needed her for anything, no one who had been after her while her thoughts and mind were elsewhere.

Finally, after many commoners gave her confused expressions as to why she had stood still for so long, Rosemary turned back around and continued walking to Fergus's room. She brushed her brown bangs behind her right ear, her ponytail bouncing in the air as she shifted through the civilians.

"Rosemary!"

A hand grabbed her shoulder as she quickly turned her head to see who had been following her trail. It was Ser Gilmore, a squire of the castle since the age of eleven or twelve, as well as a trained knight. He let go of her shoulder as she turned to face him.

"I…" he breathed," I… phew…"

He bent over, gasping for air as he put his hands on his chainmail covered knees. His orange hair was dripping with warm sweat and his cream colored skin was beaded with it as well.

"I was… calling you back there…" Ser Gilmore said as he slowly stood straight again and started to breathe normally. He wiped his forehead with his hand and looked at Rosemary with his pale blue eyes.

"Oh," she said, remembering that all her attention had gone to the memory she was thinking of, "I apologize."

They moved away from the middle of the public and to an empty corner in the room so the two could hear each other more clearly.

"I was outside the room where the teyrn and Arl Howe were", Ser Gilmore explained as he stood in front of the thick stone wall, "so I've been following you ever since you left." He laughed, his cheeks pushing up into his eyes as he formed a large grin. "You're pretty swift, you know that?"

She was surprised, not aware that she had made it to the second floor of the castle so rapidly.

"Your mother told me the teyrn had summoned you," Ser Gilmore went on, "so I didn't want to interrupt."

Rosemary smiled. "Hello to you, too, Ser Gilmore."

He bowed his head at her greeting. "It's always a pleasure to have the chance to see you, my lady."

She chuckled to herself. 'My lady' was an overly proper title for her. It suited her mother more, or Fergus's wife Oriana; but not Rosemary.

"I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar again," Ser Gilmore said. He sighed, his breath cutting between his teeth. "Nan is threatening to leave."

Nan, the castle's lead chef as well as Rosemary and Fergus's former nanny, had always had a grudge over her dog, Thaddeus. Maybe it was just an inherited trait of all cooks, since mabaris' drool over chunks of leftover meat. But Thaddeus was a respectful dog. She found him as a puppy on the side of a dirt road one day, neglected and in need of a home.

_Rosemary skipped alongside her father on a wandering path that would eventually lead to Denerim. It was midday, the sun was shining dimly through the thick gray clouds of Winter, and the cold air whispered in her ears and between her pigtails. She rubbed her finger against the thick black coat that kept her body warm. The glove captured clumps of minute snowflakes that rested on her coat; they dissolved instantly once the soft cotton of her mitten touched them. The girl looked up at her father, squeezing her hand that was wrapped around his so he would know that she was looking at him. He stared down at his side, his bright blue pupils gazing into hers. Bits of snow were caught in his short brown beard and his nose was tinted a pale pink color. He smiled at her._

"Isn't this beautiful, dear?"_ he asked. She turned her attention to their surroundings. The landscape of their castle was blanketed with an untouched sheet of white that had been placed overnight and the branches of broad pine trees were embedded with lines of powdery flakes. Two small forts that she and Fergus had built stood out in the open of their enormous yard. Piles of unused snowballs sat next to them, and in between the forts were light imprints of the children's boots. She stared back at her father and nodded at his question. Winter was always her favorite season._

_She and her father continued drifting until they saw a strange item lying up ahead on the side of the trail. It wasn't very large compared to her father, but it was as tall as the little girl, so it seemed fairly big. The mysterious object was patched with thin layers of ice, and a part of it had broken off and was lying in the deep snow._

_They raced over to the object, their feet crunching inside the heavy terrain. Her father knelt down to the object and wiped away the snow and ice. They discovered that is was a wooden cart that appeared to be purposely abandoned. He motioned for her to stay behind him as he studied the pile of rubble._

_The cart was covered in pointed splinters and two rusty wheels were attached to the back of it. The component that had broken off was one of the long handles used to pull the item. Her father gasped as he looked inside of the old cart._

"Maker's breath…"_ he whispered to himself. He extended his arms into the opening of the cart and sat there for a moment, stroking his hands against something his daughter couldn't see. She quietly stepped behind her father to get a look of what was going on._

_Inside of her father's palms was a young puppy, small and homeless. The fact that the adolescent dog was lying inside the cart suggested that it was most likely left to freeze to death in the cold. What sick person leaves an innocent animal out to die?_

_The dog shook rapidly in his hands, its blood temperature low. It had big, dark eyes, and its soft fur was a much lighter shade of brown. There was a small cut under one of the puppy's eyes, but that was the only wound she could see._

_The girl reached her hand out to touch the animal. At first, it whimpered as her glove drew close to its face, but as her small hand rubbed its head, the animal remained silent. She glanced at her father as she continued to soothe the dog._

"This is a mabari,"_ he said. _"Yep, I'm sure of it. A purebred, even."_ The dog began to shake more. It was going to die soon if it weren't to be concealed in warmth._

"Father,"_ the girl said firmly, _"we have to take him home."_ She gently took the dog from him and held it up against her jacket. It nuzzled its head into her chest, and her hands tried to keep it warm. It whined as she stroked its icy fur. Her father stood up and stared down at the puppy. _"This is a big step for you, Rosemary,"_ he warned, _"especially at your age."

_She nodded at him as the two of them (three now, actually) headed back towards the castle._ "I'll take care of him Father, I promise. I'll feed him three times a day to make sure he gets lots to eat, and then, when the winter blows over, we can play outside. Oh, we'll wrestle down hills and walk through the woods! Fergus will be shocked to see him!"_ She looked up at him. _"And I'll take him out every night to do his business, don't worry."

_Her father chuckled. He patted her back as their winter boots sank into the snow each step they took. _"Alright,"_ he decided, gazing at her as she grinned from ear to ear, _"but I warn you, if he gets into Nan's larder, then we'll all be in for it."

She stared down at her feet. If she and her father hadn't been out in that weather at that time… if they had stopped walking just before they would have noticed that cart… the imagination sent a deathly chill through her spine.

"Did he get into the larder again?" Rosemary asked, staring out the window behind Ser Gilmore. Dark clouds lurked amidst the daylight, and the leaves of heavy branches were pulled inside of a tugging wind. A storm was brewing, and it didn't look to good, either.

Ser Gilmore nodded. "No matter how the maids try to keep him out, he always finds a way in."

He sighed. "You know these mabari hounds. He'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Thaddeus was her best friend, probably her only friend in years since she had last seen the arl's children, and the greatest dog anyone would ever lay their eyes on. She could talk to him if she was sad and he would listen, condoling her with small whimpers and resting his head in her lap. He was just…_**defensive**_, is all.

"He knows better than to hurt anyone," she told Ser Gilmore.

The man gave her a suspicious look. "I'm not willing to test that." He changed his expression as he crossed his arms, his lips turning to a grin.

"You're quite lucky to have your own mabari hound, you know," he said, showing his pearly white teeth. "Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say." He skidded his foot on the ground. "Of course," he continued, "that means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself."

A streak of purple ran down through the clouded sky, and a deafening crack of thunder blasted in their ears. Rosemary's heart nearly leapt out of her chest as the glass in the windowpane vibrated with violent force. There were instantly shards of rain falling onto the roof of the castle, and the trees outside the castle seemed as if they were about to snap in half. Both of them exhaled deeply; something that loud would nearly make one scream.

"At any rate," Ser Gilmore said, rubbing his forehead, "your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

She smiled. "To the kitchen, then."

They turned to the crowd of startled people that surrounded them. Rosemary felt as if she was drowning in a horde of frantic civilians.

"Just follow the yelling", Ser Gilmore stated as they began to cut through the mass amount of commoners. "When Nan's unhappy, she makes sure everyone knows it."

They came to an alleyway on the first floor of the castle. There was a single door there, and as Rosemary went to open it, she heard piercing shouts from the inside of the kitchen.

"Servants!" yelled an old woman whose voice was hoarse. "Clean up that mess! Don't you realize there's a deranged mutt in here?!"

A deranged mutt? Her dog was a well-behaved mabari! What kind of trouble could he have gotten into? Ser Gilmore grimaced. "Ugh…" he moaned, "sounds like she's pretty upset. Best we get in there, before things get uglier."

She twisted the knob, the rust of the metal scraping against her palm. The door creaked open, and Rosemary saw Nan standing with her hands on her hips. Her two servants sat on their knees on the concrete floor, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, scrubbing away at the grimy floor with yellow sponges and a bucket of hot soapy water.

It was a large area- there were dozens of barrels and sacks organized in tall rows along the stone wall, and wooden cabinets stuffed with delicious food sat nestled in each corner of the room. The actual kitchen was connected to the larder, which the door to that room was behind where Nan stood furious.

The old woman pointed her finger at the two elven laborers. "Get that bloody mutt _**out**_ of the larder!" she ordered.

The female elf stopped cleaning the floor. She wiped her forehead with her dry hand; large beads of sweat were collected on the pores of her face. "But mistress!" she said, her voice weak and her body exhausted from hours of work. "It won't let us near!"

Nan grit her teeth. "If I can't get into that larder," she spoke coldly, "I'll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!"

Ser Gilmore bit his lip, uneasy to even speak. "Err…" he said quietly, "calm down, good woman. We've come to help…"

Nan quickly turned from hollering at the workers. She shot Rosemary and Ser Gilmore dirty looks. "You!" she said, glancing at Ser Gilmore. He backed away slightly as she stepped towards them. "And you!" she yelled, fixing her angry eyes on the girl. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

Rosemary furrowed her eyebrows at Nan. What she wanted to retort back to her was _"Don't you mean 'deranged mutt'? At least that's what I heard before I walked in. And if you ever speak to Ser Gilmore and I like that, and your servants for that matter, ever again, I'll let my Father know about it for sure!", _but this was _**her**_ kitchen and they were _**her**_ servants, and she was also an elder. And she definitely didn't want to get into a back and forth argument with her about what she could and couldn't call her dog. That would make the situation much, much worse. So instead, Rosemary replied "I'm sorry he's bothering you, Nan."

She sighed. "Just get him gone," she said with a more relaxed tone, "I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers."

The two elves stood up from scrubbing the floor to begin a new task. Their legs wobbled as they slowly rose to their feet. Rosemary felt awful for them.

When she opened the door to the larder, Thaddeus was on all fours and standing in an attack pose. His back was turned; he was facing the wall in front of them. He snarled through his razor sharp teeth, saliva dripping from the ring of his mouth. He didn't turn to look at the two as they entered.

The large dog barked at various boxes that blocked the wall. His claws were dug into the floor beneath him, and his nose was planted into the ground as well.

He wagged his hindquarters, trying to sniff out an unidentifiable smell.

"Look at that mess," said Ser Gilmore. "How did he even get in here?"

Rosemary stepped over to Thaddeus as Ser Gilmore stood next to the door, obviously afraid that her mabari would rip his body to shreds. She kneeled down in front of Thaddeus so she could look into his brown eyes.

"Are you trying to tell me something, boy?" she asked, scratching the dog's floppy ears. He immediately relaxed as Rosemary pet him and he barked excitingly. His stubby tail wagged as he nodded his head at the stack of crates and potato sacks.

Ser Gilmore crossed his arms. "He does seem like he's trying to tell you something…"

She stood up and walked over to the stack of boxes and other items. "Here?" Thaddeus barked again and wagged his tail even faster.

Ser Gilmore, taking his chances, stepped over to her side. Thaddeus watched him, though did not attempt to lunge at him. "Perhaps there's a slab of meat hidden behind there…?" Ser Gilmore suggested.

The two of them began to slide the objects over to the side as the mabari continuously kept barking. Behind the items was no steak; instead a massive hole in the stone wall.

Thaddeus began to growl once more as soon as he noticed the opening, returning to the pose they saw him in when they first walked in.

Rosemary squatted down to the hole and looked inside. It was pitch black, and remains of the stone were scattered in and around the aperture. It appeared that someone had intentionally made this burrow…but who…or what?

She didn't want to risk putting her hand in, so she stood up and stepped back over to Thaddeus. "I understand," she said, patting Thaddeus on the head. "You're not disturbing the larder, you're just protecting it." Rosemary thought for a moment about what sort of thing might have broke the stone. "Some sort of large vermin…" she decided. "Giant rats, maybe?"

Ser Gilmore snickered. "Giant rats?" he said. "It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell!"

Thaddeus prowled past Ser Gilmore and she and in front of the hole. He stood there for a moment and listened with his perceptive ears. He then turned back to the two of them and barked ferociously, aware that something was inside the burrow.

It was times like this when she think 'Hmm…perhaps all that time I spent dueling that practice dummy was actually worthwhile'.

"What is going on in there?" Nan whispered as she and the servants overheard the vicious screeches and slashes of blades coming from inside the larder.

The two laborers looked up from washing stained dishes. The female elf shook her head at the male elf, and then he stared at Nan.

"Well," he replied hesitantly, not sure if Nan was asking them or is she was just talking to herself again, "from the sounds of it-"

The servant was interrupted by Ser Gilmore who was yelling from the other side of the room. "Here I am, killing giant rats. How noble of me!"

Nan gasped, her eyes widening so large that they nearly popped out of their sockets. "Giant rats?!" she said. "In my kitchen? Impossible!"

The two laborers giggled at Nan's outburst, though the female accidently dropped the plate she had in her hand. It fell into the sink full of warm water, splashing a flood of soapy liquid all over the two. They laughed even harder as soap stuck to their dirty faces.

Nan grumbled. "You two!" she said angrily. "Because of you pathetic souls, the kitchen is not as clean as it should be!"

The elves closed their mouths and stood silent as Nan continued. "You're both going to start cleaning extra hard, and that means less pay and more work!" She rattled her throat and spat a large amount of saliva onto the floor next to the workers' feet. They gave one another gloomy looks as she stormed over to the cabinets near the larder. "Back to work!" she ordered. The two elves sighed as they resumed their duties. The evident hatred of elves showed through Nan's words. This was not an uncommon thing in Ferelden.

"Is that all of them?" Ser Gilmore inquired as he pushed his bloodied sword through the remaining rat.

Rosemary glanced around the room. She couldn't see the floor; the color red was splattered everywhere and the corpses of dead rodents covered it. The teen set her hazel eyes on the dog. He wagged his tail and licked his teeth. The larder was silent.

"I suppose so, Ser Gilmore", she answered, sliding her daggers back into their scabbards that were attached to her back. "Nan won't be happy with this mess." She could already hear her barking voice inside of her head. Not a good image.

Ser Gilmore stared at Thaddeus. The dog cut its pupils at him, but did nothing else as the man cautiously pat his furry head. "Can you do something about this gory mess?" Ser Gilmore asked the mabari. Thaddeus barked happily as his long tongue sagged in between his gums. He pranced to a nearby rat and helped himself to an afternoon snack.

Rosemary gasped as Thaddeus devoured the remnants of a dead vermin. "Ser Gilmore! That is just… absolutely disgusting!"

Ser Gilmore shrugged his shoulders, the chainmail he wore clinking as he did so. "Nan would just start yelling again, and we don't want that, now do we?"

She sighed. Perhaps he was right. Those poor elven servants probably had to listen to her rant on and on every day… well, she was calm and all when Rosemary was a child; the woman took good care of her and Fergus as their mother and father attended to other tasks. But now...well, she supposed that standing in the heat of a steamy kitchen all day, seven days a week would make you lose your temper easily. Rosemary knew she would go on some sort of freakish rampage if someone took even the slightest bit of tone with her.

"I suppose you _**do**_ have a point, Ser Gilmore," Rosemary admitted as she watched Thaddeus sink his teeth into the final rat. He shook his head savagely, tearing the deceased rodent in half. The girl felt a sense of nausea build up in her throat as she turned her head from the scene.

"I can't bear to watch…" she muttered as she shut her eyes tightly, Ser Gilmore laughing heartily.

After a few more moments of Thaddeus biting and ripping deceased rats, he trotted in front of Rosemary and barked. She looked down to see his canines smeared in blood and chunks of meat and dark gray fur jammed in between them. He had a joyous smile on his face as he spun around in circles.

Ser Gilmore raised his eyebrows, looking around the larder in amazement.

"You have to give him credit," he said, stepping in different areas of the room in awe, "just look at this place; it's practically spotless, my lady."

She peered at the floor of the larder. The concrete was licked clean of blood and the vile rats that had covered it had been gulped down, too. All that was left were scattered piles of hollow bones. Quite impressive.

"Oh, what can I say," she said, kneeling on the ground to scratch the dog's ears. Thaddeus, slobber bubbling up in his mouth as she hugged his neck, sounded a happy bark. "He is a warhound, after all," Rosemary said. "Ha, maybe that's just what they do".

She turned her eyes to look at Ser Gilmore who stood wiping dark red blood off of his shoulder. He spat onto the armor and polished it with his thumb.

Rosemary chuckled at how perfect he needed to look. Wouldn't a soldier _**want**_ to go up to other recruits and proudly say _"Look everyone! I've just slain an immense horde of flesh-eating rats! See all this crusted blood on my arms? Yes, that's right; I really _**did**_ kill something today after all. Oh, no, it wasn't that bad. Well, it did catch me off guard, and I was thinking about this girl at the time, and- w-what? Hey, I wasn't scared! It just caught me by surprise, is all…" _

"It's still gross though," Rosemary said. How could one _**not**_ find it repulsive that a dog (her best friend, in this case) potentially became a relentless flesh eating fiend? Ser Gilmore smiled as he raised one of his eyebrows. "Then you would absolutely _**die**_ of nausea if you were to experience what all of us have to witness." He shuddered. "Pretty revotling, to be honest, my lady. If you could only imagine..."

Yes...if she could only imagine.

Rosemary let loose of Thaddeus and rose to her feet. Flaky dirt caked to her kneecaps from where she had been sitting and drool slowly slid down the middle of her cheek. She took the back of her hand and dragged it across her soft face, though it only caused the gluey saliva to smear even more. Ser Gilmore chuckled at her as the two exited the larder with Thaddeus trotting behind.

_She rested atop of her bed, her eyes hesitating to close for an afternoon nap. Rosemary turned onto her left side and buried her head into a pillow, exhausted from practicing her use of daggers on the wooden test dummy. Her palms were smothered in burning abrasions from keeping such a tight grip on the handle of the blades; the layer of skin had practically melted away, leaving behind burning marks that pulsed within open flesh. She had carefully taken long strips of gauze from inside Nan's larder to try to soothe the excruciating scorching sensation that tingled deep within her hands, but the bandages did no good. She sighed and told herself that she would retire from honing her skills and that tomorrow she would just go ahead and show her father what she'd been working on for hours and hours each day for the past week. She just knew he would agree to allow her to travel with he and her brother._

_As she began to slowly drift into slumber- the anguishing discomfort that purged down from inside her wrist and all the way to the tip of her fingertips beginning to dissolve-, Rosemary heard rhythmic footsteps approaching from outside of her bedroom door. It was not the sound of a person, but more of an animal whose sharp claws were scraping against the wooden floor, creating a tick tick tick noise with each prancing step it took._

_She slowly sat up in the bed, wincing as the pain aroused once more because of the movement in her hands. Her eyes fluttered, the long, black eyelashes brushing swiftly underneath her eyelids. When Rosemary opened her eyes, she saw Thaddeus standing at the doorway, his tail thumping against the wood of the entrance, his big brown eyes glimmering in the light that shone from the window. He had something strange punctured into his teeth; it was about the size of her childhood doll Alessa, though it was furry and covered in dried blood, and was emitting a repulsive, unholy smell. The girl gasped, choking on the air that sucked between her teeth, the horrid odor creeping its way through her nostrils, and covered her nose with her sore hands. Dogs had sharp senses, especially in smell…how could her mabari not be gagging at this…this **thing**?_

"Thaddeus!" _Rosemary exclaimed as she stood up from her position._

"What in Andraste's name is that?!"

_He proceeded over to his master's side to show her his prize. The girl's eyes watered as the dog drew nearer, the rank smell almost killing her. She sighed and knelt down, plugging her nose, to see what Thaddeus had for her to examine._

_It was a rabbit that appeared to have snow white fur, but that was before the poor thing had gotten covered in a foul bloodbath, thanks to the mabari that had it locked inside of its mouth. Blades of grass were garnished along the back of the animal as well. One of the ears had been detached from the scalp, and the other was brutally chewed and on the brink of tearing. Its paws dangled in the air below the mabari's jaw and the animal's cotton-like tail was splattered with dirt and grime. Rosemary couldn't believe what she was looking at!_

"Thaddeus," _she said scornfully, pointing her finger right at his nose, his eyes crossing as he looked at her finger, _"did you do this?"

_The dog barked happily, causing the slaughtered rabbit to slip from in between his teeth. It slumped onto the floor right in front of her feet, causing its head to turn upward, its black, soulless eyes staring straight at Rosemary. She shrieked and jumped back from sitting on the ground, backing straight into her nightstand as a result. The structure wobbled back and forth as her head pummeled right into it, her legs kicking out in front of the dog._

_Thaddeus pushed aside the dead critter with his nose and walked over to Rosemary's side as she groaned with shearing pain. He whined repeatedly as he nuzzled his head next to hers, his soft fur rubbing against her cheek. Rosemary scratched his muscular back as she sat up and leaned against the nightstand. Her head pounded a little now, yet her hands were still throbbing with torturing pain. She looked down at them, her eyes feeling fuzzy from the discomfort. The blisters that burned beneath her fingers had grown to a burgundy shade of color. She couldn't bear it any longer._

"It's not your fault,"_ Rosemary told Thaddeus as she rose to her feet, watchful as to how she used her hands. He stared at the rabbit on the floor, his eyes full of remorse that he had slain the innocent animal. He gently lifted it into his mouth, careful not to sink his fangs back into the rabbit. He whimpered at the small critter as he walked back in front of his master. It probably had friends, a family with children it needed to get back to provide it with the food that they longed to eat._

_She nuzzled the dog's head._ "Just…" _Rosemary mumbled softly,_ "let's go dispose of it kindly and properly."

_It seemed as if the mabari had nodded at her request, and, his head drooping so low it nearly touched the floor, walked out of the bedroom._

_Perhaps she should would fetch her mother afterwards to get something done about those wounds… Yes, she would do just that._

Nan stood in front of one of the various cabinets, reaching for ingredients required for tonight's dinner- plump roasted chicken, bottled red wine, fresh steamed vegetables, and a crisp apple pie for dessert.

She turned to Rosemary, Ser Gilmore, and the dog, packages of assorted foods crammed in between her arms. She cocked her head at them, her grey hair that was pulled into a loose bun slapping her right ear. She gave them a bitter look, her mouth puckering as if she had swallowed a pint full of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. She walked over in front of the group, her footing brisk.

"There he is, as brazen as you please," she spoke harshly down at Thaddeus as he whimpered into Rosemary's leg, "licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!"

Rosemary took in a deep breath and held it in, trying to hide how frustrated she was. Yes, Thaddeus _**was**_ covered in splatters of red and he _**was**_ cleaning his teeth with his long, drooling tongue, but it was not the blood of the bird for tonight's dinner, but of the fiendish rats that had dwelled inside of her larder.

Ser Gilmore crossed his arms. "Actually," he said correcting her, "he was defending your larder from rats." The young soldier smirked at Nan. "Big ones."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the three, knowing that she had been mistaken of the mabari's intentions. Thaddeus barked happily and stuck his snout back into the room that lay soundless. The hole in the wall sat empty of infested vermin, and the roast sat perfectly still on the top of one of the few shelves in the larder. It was wrapped in thin aluminum and was resting inside a brown paper bag.

They had all been oblivious to the distraught elves who stood in the corner of the room. Their hands covered their dry mouths that had quenched for thirst, and their small eyes were bulged with fear. The two servants quietly stepped forward so they could notice their presence, the dirty aprons swaying behind them.

The female elf removed her blistered hands from her lips and decided to speak while the male remained hushed. "R-rats?" she asked, her words quivering and hard to understand. "Not the… the large grey ones?"

Before Nan could scream at them to mind their own business and get back to cleaning the kitchens, Rosemary nodded at her question and motioned for her and the quiet man to observe the scene. The two gave each other worried looks, then made their way over to Rosemary, Ser Gilmore and Thaddeus, steering as far from Nan as they could, frightened that the woman would slap them. Nan shot them an angered expression, then shook her head and tightened her grasp on the items of food that were squeezed between her arms.

The laborers poked their heads into the larder as the others backed out of their way. The several scattered piles of gnawed bones made the elves gasp. They then noticed the aperture in the stone created by the rats and turned back to Rosemary with confused looks upon their faces.

"But," the male elf spoke, glancing back into the room, "how…where is the mess?"

She smiled at the man and rubbed Thaddeus's pointed ears. "You can thank him," she answered as the dog's tail shook back and worth, his large eyes beaming with happiness. The elves grinned at one other, relieved that one of their many duties had been instantly crossed off the list.

The elven girl walked in front of the brawny mabari, her face devoid of an expression. The dog looked up at her, his face lacking a smile as well. "Can…" she mumbled, "will he bite?"

Rosemary chuckled to herself, thinking that Ser Gilmore had, in a way, acted the same as she had. "No, ma'am," she told her, "he won't." She stared at Thaddeus who didn't take his eyes off the elf. "I promise."

The servant slowly reached her hand out to pet Thaddeus's head. The dog stood motionless, watching the girl's movement. As her hand touched his head, Thaddeus leaned into the elf, adoring the appreciation she was giving him. She knelt down to meet the dog's pupils, her long fingers stroking the edges of his ears. He woofed in her face, his wet nose grazing against hers as they enjoyed a moment that receded from the monotonous hours of cleaning. Soon the male elf joined his friend, scratching and playing with Rosemary's companion. The two seemed to be absorbed in the time spent with the loveable dog, their cheeks being licked by Thaddeus's tongue, having a special connection with the mabari whom he had with no one else except for his owner.

For the first time in her life, Rosemary saw exhilarating smiles form on the two elves faces, not because of a silly joke one had told another, but because the two had felt as if they were loved, really, actually _**loved**_ by someone. She glanced over at Ser Gilmore who stood silently next to her, observing the invigorating scene. He gave his friend a cheery grin, and she gave him one in return.

Nan barked orders at her laborers from the other room, but the two ignored her calls (which never, _**ever**_ happened), and continued to sit and caress the large hound for as long as they could. Finally, Nan stormed to the doorway in the kitchen, her hands on her hips, and a dishrag in her left and an oven mitt in her right. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it and decided not to, instead standing and gazing at her workers that endured petting and playing with the hound that she despised greatly. For a minute, Rosemary thought she saw a slight smile of tenderness grow onto the cook's face, but perhaps she was just seeing things…

Eventually, Nan walked over to them and stood over the elves. The two of them looked up at her as she said "Supper is being prepared and the stove needs a good scrub before I begin cooking the vegetables." The servants glanced at each other and then at Ser Gilmore and I, the beams of happiness on their faces beginning to fade.

"Thank you very much, kind folk," the male whispered as they slowly rose to their feet, their rough hands sliding off the sides of the dog's furry head. He barked happily as he retreated back to my side.

As the servants departed to begin their next assignments, Nan glared down at Thaddeus. "Humph," she breathed, crossing her arms, "I bet that dog led those rats in there to begin with."

Thaddeus whined, cocking his head as if to reply _"Why must I cause all the trouble? I swear it wasn't me this time!"_

Nan sneered at the dog's whimpering. "Oh, don't even start," she told him as Ser Gilmore and Rosemary watched with curiosity. "I'm immune to your so-called charms!" she said.

The mabari whined again, this time louder and more heartbreaking. _Oh, Nan... spare a poor dog some mutton? Rats leave a nasty aftertaste, you know…" _

Nan sighed and brushed past us and into the larder. She dug inside of one of the various barrels and came back with scraps of meat that dripped with a scrumptious honey glaze. The food definitely had the mabari beaming with joy, and it even had me and Ser Gilmore's stomachs' growling.

"Here, then" Nan spoke, placing the heap of meat in front of Thaddeus. "Take these pork bits and don't say that Nan never gives you anything." The mabari looked up at the ornery chef, shocked that she had given him some of her famous oven roasted pork chops, but happily obliged and dove right into the meal. His muzzle became slathered in thick, sweet sauce as he continued eating. The elderly cook scoffed. "Bloody dog," she mumbled.

When Thaddeus finished the mutton, he looked up at the rest of them. He cleaned his snout with the saliva from his tongue, and then barked with glee at Nan, his small tail wagging in the air. She paid him hardly any mind and stared at Ser Gilmore and Rosemary.

"Now off with you three," she spoke. "There is much to be done here." The cook then started back to the kitchen to begin supper, hopefully going to take it easy on the working elves. When she reached the door, she turned back to face the three and said with a kindly tone of voice "Thank you." She stared into the dog's dark brown eyes. "All of you."


	3. Chapter 3

Rosemary pulled the old door shut as they entered back into the alleyway; it moaned and creaked like a rabid crow chasing after its prey. Thankfully, the massive storm that had been brewing earlier receded into a light shower of raindrops- which was a good thing. She didn't really care too much for thunderstorms.

_She sat in her bedroom, sitting with the covers pulled over her head, counting the seconds between each lapse of thunder. _"One..."_ she whispered in her head, _"two…three…"

_There was suddenly a bright flash of white in her window, followed by an immediate roar of thunder. She whimpered, squeezing Alessa into her chest, biting her pillow as she was becoming overwhelmed in fear._

_She ripped the sheets from her head and peered into the corner of the room. Her dog sat on one of her soft pillows, his ears perked straight in the air. He gazed at her and whimpered, frightened of the rolls of thunder just as she was. As soon as there was another crack of lighting, he cowered in terror over the turbulent storm, burying his head into the pillow. His spine shivered with fear, his brown fur sticking straight in the air. She kicked the cotton blankets off of her cold feet, and the girl jumped out of the bed and darted to her panic-stricken puppy, leaving her doll under the soft covers. She hurried as fast as her small legs could carry her to the little dog, tripping over her night gown as she did so. Thunder pounded once more and the rain grew heavier, angrier even, as Mother Nature let loose her wrath of fury onto the land of Highever. The girl dropped to the mabari's side and scooped him into her arms, rubbing his back and head. He whined into her chest as she scratched his ears, caressing his fear as well as hers._

_As the girl began to make her way back to her bed, a silhouette of a body appeared in her doorway. _"Rosemary,"_ the person whispered, its hand grabbing the edge of the door. The girl turned to see her brother in his dark blue pajamas, awakened from the vociferous downpour that surrounded the castle. He jumped as a blinding light illuminated the windowpane, his face becoming alit so she could see his and he could see hers. He had a scared expression upon his face, and she supposed hers was even more terrified, since she disliked storms a greater deal than he did. Suddenly their faces became dim, and they were enclosed in darkness once again._

_She raced to her bed and placed the dog on it so she could climb onto it herself. The dog, now less frightened than before, sat quietly as she hopped on the bed and retrieved Alessa from underneath the sheets. Fergus walked over to the edge of her bed and stood there. Although she could barely see, her eyes had adjusted well enough to the blackness that she could tell that Fergus's green eyes were staring at her. She didn't say anything, too scared that a booming crash of thunder would interrupt my words. Neither did Fergus, as he persistently stood there, his pupils now wandering to a corner of the room._

_Thunder exploded over and over again, the two of them remaining silent, Fergus standing motionless and the girl sitting upright on the bed, twirling Alessa's brown hair in between her fingers. Eventually, the small dog became restless of playing by himself and stumbled up the bed and next to his friend's side. He licked her face before he curled up in the middle of the wide mattress, resting his head onto his paws. She did the same, instead lying flat on her left side so she could face the window, repeating the numbers one, two and three in her head before lightning called from the clouds and thunder replied with a booming answer. She tucked her doll underneath her arm, its head just touching the bottom of the girl's chin._

_As she drifted off to sleep, she felt someone climb onto her bed next to her side. Half asleep, the girl mumbled _"Fergus..?"

_He tossed and turned, finally positioning himself on his back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. _"I'm not scared,"_ he muttered. _"I just don't want you to be."

_She smiled, relieved that if she awoke and was afraid, she would have her brother at her side to comfort her. Beneath the independent, indomitable Fergus was a caring young boy that rarely ever uncovered his mask._

"But just this once,"_ he added, but that was after she had fallen back into slumber, the pattern of the storm beginning to dissolve into a heavy shower of droplets that allowed her mind to sink into a deep ocean of dreams._

They walked a little ways, or at least until they were out of the alley, and stopped to greet some of Ser Gilmore's fellow soldiers who sat in a table inside the treasury of the castle. There were four of five of them, armed in their red steel chainmail, playing a round of cards. When they saw the two, the soldiers gasped, slamming their hands of cards on the wooden table. They gave one other the _'We've been caught! Let's get out of here!_' look, but remained seated and locked their pupils on Rosemary.

"Oh!" one of them exclaimed. He sat across from the soldier that sat in front of her. The man's tone sounded scared as he removed his sturdy helmet; his hair was a light shade of brown and his eyes were bright blue. His friends remained quiet as the guard rose to his feet. Ser Gilmore chuckled to himself as his pal thought of an excuse as to why he and the others were playing poker.

"My lady," he said, "we were just…ah…"

She raised an eyebrow, Ser Gilmore still giggling under his breath. "Taking a break?" she questioned.

The guards turned around to stare at her, though she couldn't see their faces-they most likely had hysterical expressions.

The standing soldier scratched the back of his head. "Well…" he answered, "the treasury's safe… I'm not even sure why the teyrn stationed us here…"

Thaddeus licked the back of her hand as she asked them "Did my father fear someone would steal something?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I… don't know. Nobody has come to look at the treasury."

As the other soldiers sighed and began putting their cards back into a deck, Rosemary smiled and shook her head. "Continue you game," she said with a wink. "Pretend I never came by."

The guards immediately turned to her again, probably with confused expressions. She nodded at them to confirm what she had stated, and she heard them say things such as "Thank you, my lady!" and "What a lifesaver…" Ser Gilmore busted out laughing at his friends who all began talking to each other at once, such as "I'm all in, pal," and "we'll see who gets the chips!" and "Fool! I've a straight flush!" The soldier who removed his helm sighed with relief. "My lady is very kind to show us such lenience," he told her, a grin spread across his face. What could she say? She had to let them off the hook. After all, they _**were**_ in the middle of a game, and if she was playing for a bag of a few coins as well, she would want to try and win, too.

Ser Gilmore walked over to the soldier who sat back down. He slapped him on the back and said "Thought she might tell on you, huh?"

"Shut up…"the soldier said as he playfully smacked Ser Gilmore in return, the red haired man snickering as the guard did so.

After Ser Gilmore chatted with his friends for a moment or two, he came back in front of Rosemary, his eyes nearly burst to tears from laughing so hard. He smiled at her, his cheeks flushed. "Seeing as you've got your hound in order," he said, and, without fear this time, scratched the top of the mabari's head. He happily licked the man's glove, his nose leaving a residue of snot on his palm. "…I'll be on my way," Ser Gilmore continued, his hand retreating back to his side as the dog wagged his tail. "I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the arl's men."

Rosemary smirked. If there was a round of cards being played, then Ser Gilmore was in for the next game, friends or no. He caught on to her look and commented "Oh, I might join in for a game or too, don't you worry. But as soon as I win"—she couldn't help but laugh at that arrogant statement—"my friends and I will be accompanying the other soldiers in the Main Hall." They shook each other's hands and bid farewell, Ser Gilmore returning back to the table with the guards and Thaddeus and she heading out to find Fergus. Ser Gilmore turned his head and watched her go, analyzing her beautiful curves swaying away from him. He had always somewhat yearned for the Teyrn's daughter. Perhaps another time, maybe tomorrow, before he was to head for battle, he'd tell her of his small feelings.

Though she thought it strange, considering all the bickering they did as children, the relationship between Rosemary and her brother had always been awfully close. He was the eldest, only by a year or two, and she was the youngest. It was just the two of them, and we were usually the only two children in the entire estate of Castle Cousland. Sure, sometimes he teased her and they would wrestle and tug and bite, but they watched out for one another. And sure, she would sometimes believe as a child he was the bane of her existence, and she to his, but they loved each other more and more with each passing day, and as soon as Rosemary and her father had brought home Thaddeus, their bond had grown stronger as they romped with their new friend. They had their differences as well as their similarities, but he was a great brother, and she wouldn't trade him for any other.

As they neared the long corridor that led to Fergus's private quarters, Rosemary noticed her mother standing in front of a large window, sipping a cup of green tea. She stared out the glass, her eyes wandering to the various mountains and forests that were the small pieces that fit into the breathtaking puzzle of Nature. She turned to Rosemary as she heard her approaching footsteps, interrupting the middle of a drink. She removed the cup from her lips and placed it onto a small table next to the window. She greeted her with a soft smile, interlocking her hands in front of her stomach that was covered by a beautiful lavender dress.

"So," she asked, looking down at the dog by her side, "you managed to solve Nan's dog issue?"

Thaddeus barked happily, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Her mother smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Good work, darling," she told her daughter, kissing her pinkish cheek lightly. "Now, you should say goodbye to Fergus before he leaves, don't you think?" she suggested. But before she left to meet up with her brother, Rosemary wanted to discuss with her about the man named Duncan.

Rosemary walked over to the wood table by the window and sat in one of the two chairs, resting her hands in her lap. Her mother joined her in the opposing seat as her mabari trotted beside her, sitting quietly on the floor next to her feet. "Tea for you, dear? There's an eccentric elfroot and cinnamon blend that Nan has discovered and it's really quite delicious, you ought to try it."

Although she was slightly parched, Rosemary did not wish to bother the servants, so she kindly declined. "Did you know there's a Grey Warden here?" she asked, reminiscing the time that she had spent with he, Father and Arl Howe. She was still in shock that she had met a person of such high authority.

Her mother lifted her brewed tea from the table and pressed it up to her lips, taking an elegant sip from the painted white teacup. Rosemary now wished that she had a serving of it; she could already taste the drink running down her throat, the warmth and freshness of it soothing both her body and soul, though she remained silent and awaited her response. She licked her upper lip, removing any excess tea as she placed the cup back where it had been resting.

"Yes, you're father mentioned that," she answered, crossing her legs underneath the table as she folded her hands onto the lap of her dress. She gave her daughter a serious look. "You haven't gotten it into your head that you cannot be recruited?"

"The darkspawn have returned," she protested. Though this discussion wasn't entirely focused around allowing her to join the Grey Wardens, Rosemary did want to bring the topic up. Her fighting had improved, and she actually killed something deadly. Once she had met Duncan, she was not only thrilled to be in his presence, but also longed to become one of the legendary fighters even more than she did before. "Grey Wardens are needed," she pleaded. Mother shook her head at her request, almost as if she refused to even listen. "There's enough here in Ferelden to fight the darkspawn horde," she argued. "I don't need you off chasing danger like your brother."

It was true; Fergus reveled in the excitement of battle—the camping in the middle of nowhere, the killing, the pride of surviving, every last bit of it. Rosemary sat in discomfort, imagining herself in his boots. She did not see the difference if she were out with him.

"But why, Mother?" she whispered, leaning closer into the table, her breasts pressing against the edge of it. "Why can't I go with Fergus and Father?"

She sighed, her eyes looking into her child's. The woman cupped her hands around the both of Rosemary's that were now on top of the table, the fingernails digging into the wood. "I know it's difficult to stay in the castle and watch the others ride off," she said softly, trying to calm the girl's mixed emotions, "but we must see to our duties first." She took one of her hands from holding Rosemary's and placed the sullen girl's bangs that flowed down her face behind her ear. She went on as the dog next to them lay down on the floor, pressing his nose against his hind legs. "You understand that, don't you?"

She did understand. She knew that she needed to stay and help attend to the castle, but what was important to her was not that of tidying studies, but that she got to go with her brother and father to battle the darkspawn, to be remembered as a heroine of the war, to feel worthy and honored by her family.

"Yes," she told her mother, resting back in her chair properly, her hands retreating back into her thighs, "I understand."

The woman smiled, taking another sip from the palatable mixture. "Trust me," she assured her, placing the cup back onto the table, "you are needed here."

Rosemary thought of the possibilities of what may happen while they were away. Not the good ones, like defeating the horde and coming back home safely, but the terrible outcomes that could possibly occur. There was a chance that they might fail in combat and succumb to the darkspawn, their corpses resting in a field of blood and darkness, the rest of them never getting to see them again. What about the holidays? There would be no Father to slice the first piece of ham in the dining hall, no Fergus to crack jokes at the table as dishes were passed around. Poor little Oren would have to live without a father in his life, no man to teach him how to swing a blade as he grew older. And Mother, sitting alone in her bedroom at night, tears running down her cheeks as she would stare into the blackness of her window, her heart torn with loneliness and woe.

The law states that if a teyrn is to die, then his son would take the duty of taking his place. So who would rule the castle? Certainly not she, and Mother would refuse to take all of the power. Rosemary supposed there was a chance of either Father or Fergus surviving the battle, but still… it would never be the same without them.

She pushed the thought out of her imagination, the dark sense of it overpowering her mind. She gazed at her mother, who had taken another swallow of tea. "I have a bad feeling about all this," she told her. She grazed her finger over the brim of the cup, the white paint gleaming through a small ray of sunlight behind a row of clouds. "As do I," her mother said quietly, looking into the pool of pale green liquid. "Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don't comfort me."

She averted her eyes from Rosemary as she stared down at the snoozing dog beneath the table. "But it wouldn't help for us to take up arms and follow," she said. "Fergus and your father have their duties and we have ours." Her mother, the tea cup now empty, stood up from her chair, fixing her purple dress that was slightly crinkled in the middle. "I love you, my darling girl," she said as the girl pat Thaddeus's head that was propped against her leg. The dog opened its eyes from a light nap and yawned, his jaws widening so far to show his thick fangs. "You know that, don't you?"

Rosemary rose from her chair and walked over to her. "I love you, too," she said as she embraced her in her arms. She kissed her cheek as she let go. "Go do what you must, then," she said as she started towards the door leading to the Main Hall. "I will see you soon."

She looked down at her mabari, his pointed ears twitching as he stretched his front and hind legs. "Come on, boy," she said as she started for Fergus's room. He barked excitedly, following behind her as she began walking.

A small boy looked up at his father and asked "Is there really going to be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?" The man smiled down at his son and knelt do he could be eye to eye with him. "That's 'sword', Oren," he corrected. "And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise."

The young boy gave his father a sad expression. "When will you come home, papa?"

He stared up at his wife who was standing behind the boy. She, too, seemed worried about her husband's departure. "I'll be back before you know it," he told the boy as he hugged his father.

"I wish victory was indeed so certain," his wife said, her voice full of fear for her husband. "My heart is... disquiet."

He smiled. "Don't frighten the boy, love" he said. "I speak the truth." "Listen," Rosemary whispered as she reached the outside of Fergus's door, "do you mind staying out here for a few moments while I bid my brother farewell?" The large dog barked at her request, his tail wagging with happiness. He sat on his hindquarters right next to the opening of Fergus's door, posing as a stone statuette.

The door was agape, and when she stepped inside, Fergus was the first to notice her presence. "And here's my little sister to see me off," her brother said as he rose to his feet. "Now dry your eyes, love," he told his wife as she patted them with a handkerchief, "and wish me well."

"Oh," Rosemary spoke, thinking that she had barged in on their last minutes together, "should I wait outside?"

Fergus shook his head. "Stay," he said. "I'd like to say farewell."

It had felt like just a few days ago that Fergus and Rosemary were still young children, playing outside or running around inside the castle. The two of them had grown so much now, it was so hard to believe. He had a child… a child!

The childhood Fergus who was a fearless and independent boy had a son, though he acted just as his father. Her brother even had the shadow of a small beard around his upper lip and chin- he was starting to look exactly like their father! His brown hair tousled in all directions, and his eyes always had a suave and charming look to them. Oriana had quite the prize.

And Rosemary, now twenty two years old instead of six… it was unreal to her.

"Aunt Rosemary!"

Oren ran and hugged her legs, wrapping his arms around them. He was too short to reach her torso, but she found it very cute. She squatted down to greet him.

"Mama says you're going to be watching over us while papa is gone," Oren said. "Is that true, Auntie?"

"Yes, that's true, Oren," she replied to the little boy. He had dark brown hair as well as big blue eyes, so not only did he act like Fergus, but he resembled him, too.

"What if the castle is attacked?" Oren asked. "Will there be…" his lips curled and his eyebrows lifted. "…dragons?"

His mother looked at him. "Dragons are terrible creatures, Oren," she said.

"They eat people."

Oren beamed. "Yeah! I want to see one!"

Oriana glared at her husband. "This is your influence, Fergus."

He shrugged his shoulders. "What? I didn't say anything."

The young boy stared at her with his ecstatic teal eyes. "Are you going to teach me to use a sword, Auntie? Then I can fight evil, too!"

"Take that, dire bunny!" Oren said as Rosemary stood back up before she could answer. "All darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!"

"Truthiness?" Rosemary asked.

Oriana smiled. "We're teaching him about honesty," she said. Fergus looked down at his son who was pretending to slice a sword with his hand. "Don't worry, son. You'll get to see a sword up close real soon, I promise."

Rosemary smiled as Fergus's wife came to greet her. "Maker, you've gotten so beautiful, Rosemary," she said as she hugged her. "It's always so nice to see you."

Oriana had short brown hair, and her eyes were a deep forest color. Small pieces of her hair were fixed into elaborate braids, and she wore a long, graceful dress.

Rosemary looked at Fergus who wore his heavy iron armor, his sword and shield equipped to his back. "I wish I could go with you," she told him, though he knew this already.

"I wish you could come!" Fergus replied. He thought she was a decent match, but that didn't matter to their father and mother. "It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself." Fergus still had that self pride that everyone loved about him.

"In Antiva," Oriana said, "a woman fighting in battle would be… unthinkable."

"Is that so?" Fergus said, a smile forming on his face. "I always heard Antivan women were quite dangerous."

Oriana chuckled. "With kindness and poison only, my husband."

Fergus looked at Rosemary as she grinned. "This from the woman who serves me my tea," he said.

"Did you know there's a Grey Warden in the castle?" she questioned, but before he could answer, Oren exclaimed "Really?! Was he riding a griffon?" The small boy had a beam of excitement on his face. His father had obviously told him the many tales of the Grey Wardens.

Oriana glanced down at her son. "Shh, Oren," she said to the boy. "Griffons only exist in stories now."

The legendary griffons once served as mounts to the Grey Wardens, though now they have all died off. The number of griffons left in the world slowly began to dwindle, and they soon became extinct after the fourth Blight, around two hundred years ago. It would be incredulous if one had ever reappeared again.

Fergus nodded at her question. "I'd heard that," he said. "Did he say why he's come?"

Instead of telling Fergus of what her father had told her- that Ser Gilmore was who he had his eye on- she decided to let him know what Duncan had said.

"He says he's recruiting," she explained to Fergus. He raised an eyebrow at her statement. "Oh?" Fergus said. "If I were a Grey Warden, I'd have my eye on you. Not that Father would ever allow it."

It felt great that someone besides Duncan himself told her that she would be a fair choice as to being a Grey Warden, but even better that that someone was a knight riding off into battle.

"Do you really think the war will be over quickly?" Rosemary asked Fergus. He thought that the whole thing wasn't such a big deal that most had made it out to be.

"Word from the south is that the battles have gone well," Fergus said. "There's no evidence that this is a _**true**_ Blight- just a large raid."

Oriana sniffled. "Could that be true?" the woman asked her husband. He turned to look at her. "I'll see for myself soon enough," he said. "Pray for me, love, and I'll be back within a month or two."

"You'll be missed, Brother," Rosemary said quietly.

"If it's any consolation," Fergus replied, "I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe."

Oriana laughed. "I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband," she said jokingly.

"I bring a message:" Rosemary said, finally telling Fergus why she had came other than bidding him goodbye, "Father wants you to leave without him."

"Then the Arl's men _**are**_ delayed," Fergus said. "You'd think his men were all walking backwards." He sighed, frustrated that Howe's men had still not arrived.

"Well," Fergus said, checking to see if he had all his things, "I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time!"

He looked down at his son and then at his wife. "Off we go then," he stated. "I'll see you soon, my love."

The two of them hugged, tears strolling down Oriana's cheeks. Fergus rubbed the back of her soft hair as she buried her head into his chest. Fergus then hugged Oren, the little boy clinging to his throat, it seemed.

Just then they heard a voice come from the door. "I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave?"

None other than their very own mother father stood in the doorway, stepping through and over to their side.

"Be well, my son," she said with sadness. "I will pray for your safety every day you are gone." Rosemary smiled. "You could have delivered your message yourself, Father," she said.

"And miss having both my children in one place before I leave?"He chuckled. "Not likely."

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all," Oriana said. "Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

Fergus grinned. "And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it," he chimed. "Err…" he muttered, "for the men, of course."

"Fergus!" Oriana said. "You would say this in front of your mother?"

Oren cocked his head. "What's a wench?" he asked. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

Everyone laughed at the small boy's inquiry. "A wench is a woman that pours the ale in the tavern, Oren," Father told Fergus's son. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Mother said to her husband. "Maker's breath, it's like living with a pair of small boys." She looked to Rosemary with a proud gaze. "Thankfully, I have a daughter."

Fergus chortled. "Oh, I'll miss you, Mother dear. You'll take care of her, Rosemary, won't you?"

She smiled. "You'll need protecting more than her."

"I agree," Oriana said. She looked at Fergus. "Especially if you get yourself hurt. I will never forgive you!"

Fergus laughed. "Now _**that**_ is a good incentive, wouldn't you say?"

Father chuckled. "Enough, enough. "Pup, you'll want to get an early night tonight," he said to Rosemary. "You've much to do tomorrow."

As everyone began departing for their rooms, she talked to her father before he began his leave for his bedroom. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You should be on your way, pup," he said. "Long day ahead, tomorrow."

She gave him a conspicuous look. "About this Grey Warden…" she muttered.

"Ah," he said. "I was wondering how long this would take. Has he asked to recruit you?"

"No," Rosemary answered. "I was just wondering about him."

"If a Blight is truly upon us in the south," Father said, "then Grey Wardens will be needed. There is no higher calling."

He crossed his arms. "If it comes to that, we can talk about it when I get back. Until then, just show him every courtesy. Duncan is a fine man, and a hero." She nodded. Duncan seemed to be a nice man; he was very polite to her Father, Howe and she. Rosemary would always show him upmost respect.

She looked back at Fergus who was behind her, hugging his mother goodbye. "Is sending all our forces south a good idea?" Rosemary asked.

"When the king demands it," Father replied. He raised a brow. "In fact," he said, "_**not**_ sending our forces south would be a distinctly bad idea." He smiled. "Don't worry, dear," he said. "You shouldn't see many problems. But I want you to prepare for the men left here. In case..."

"In case of what?"

He confided into answering her question. "Legends of the Blights tell of horrible things. These darkspawn once threatened many lands. If we can't hold them…" he spoke seriously, "you must prepare for the worst."

She bowed her head. "I'll do my best, Father," she said confidently. "I swear it."

"I know you will," Father said chuckling. "You are a Cousland, after all." He went on. "But let's not speak of ominous things. We shall assume that all will go well and the Maker will watch over us."

Before Rosemary turned to go, she stared at her father with a hard, caring look and asked him "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He closed his eyes in thought. "You're brother and I go into battle, not an afternoon tea. Who knows what will happen to us?"

He gave her a soft beam of a smile. "I _**will**_ tell you, however: you're my darling daughter, I love you, and I trust you completely to carry on the Cousland name if the worst should happen."

Rosemary felt the sudden urge to burst into tears, her bottom lip quivering with sadness. Father embraced her in his arms as she buried her head into his neck. "Don't worry about me, dear girl," he whispered in her ear. "You'll have enough to occupy your mind while I'm gone."

She sobbed for a few minutes, fearing the worst of what might lie ahead of them all. The others continued chatting about, listening to Oren tell fanciful tales of dragons and lovely princesses. "I know that you'll do me proud," Father said as she let go of him. "You've grown into a sensible woman, that much is clear."

Drying her eyes, she departed her father's side and walked to Fergus, and he gave her his classic sly smile. "Getting sent off to bed early, are we?" he asked, and she looked down and snickered.

"Have fun on the long march. In the cold."

Fergus sighed. "Hmm," he mumbled. "A warm bed doesn't sound so bad now, come to think of it."

Her brother smiled at her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "At any rate," he said, "I'll miss you. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back." She smiled at him as he gave her a warm hug farewell. A tear welled up in her eye. What if he never returned from the battle? What would she do with herself? Her only sibling… the joy of waking in the morning and eating breakfast together in the dining hall, telling each other of the wild and crazy dreams they had had. Then, it would be just Rosemary in the castle… what an awful thing to think of. It was Fergus; he, a mighty, courageous hero that could never be defeated. Perhaps it was a bit of an overstatement, but she liked to think it wasn't at times like this.

As she bid her farewells, Rosemary exited the room with Thaddeus following behind her. He pranced with each step he took, his tongue waving out from his mouth. She kept at a slow pace, for she wanted this day to last much longer. Rosemary didn't want her brother or father running into battle; she wanted them to stay at the castle. She wanted Fergus to stay and keep everyone in high spirits, and wanted Father to stay and keep everyone and everything in order. It would feel so strange without them there.


	4. Chapter 4

She examined herself in her lavender dress, sewn with gold lining across the lapel line and dazzled with diamonds below the embroidery. Her pale neck, bare and empty, was soft and smooth as she ran the tips of her fingers across her collar bones. She exhaled softly and slipped each of her arms out of the dress and pulled it down to her waist. She folded the beautiful piece and placed it nicely on her bed. Turning back to the mirror, she gazed at herself for a long while. She studied her complexion; her small nose, her soft, pink lips. She watched the way her eyelashes batted at her cheekbones, and how her eyes radiated and stood out from the rest of her. Her dark hair waved lightly down to her breasts and wisped at the ends. She smirked and glared at her chest, eyeing her womanly feature. They were nestled there, tight in her bra, almost spilling out from it. They had gotten much bigger over the years… she sighed and gazed at her waist. It was small and smooth as velvet, and her hips curved gracefully and led to her thighs.

Was she beautiful? How would she know? Eventually her father would arrange a marriage for her if she had not found a suitable partner. She had come across many men in her life, but she never had taken to any of them, really. She had caught boys staring at her luridly and commenting her for her looks, and all she would do was smile awkwardly and mutter a thank you. As a girl, she would sit by her windowsill and look to the stars in the distance, dreaming of a dashing knight, one who fought dragons and such, defeated dastardly creatures with a swift twist of his sword, and who was so handsome that the heavens had made him specifically to be ogled by women. These thoughts floated in her thoughts many nights, and she wondered if she would ever find such a man as this… Though it was unlikely if she stayed in this castle for the remainder of her life.

In the corner of the mirror, she saw Thaddeus lying on his stomach. She turned to look at him, his brown eyes weary from a long day. He yawned, and then rested his head onto his front paws.

She climbed atop her bed after she clad into a silk nightgown that waved down to her knees. It was late, dark, and the castle had become very quiet. She pondered if Arl Howe's men had made it to the castle yet, or if they had stopped and camped in the forest again. Fergus had already left, and Father was to leave once Howe's soldiers were to arrive, which could be any time now.

Eventually, she grew tired of thinking about all the important matters she would have to take care of on the morrow, taking Father's place in command and all, and nestled into the covers of the bed. Thaddeus had already drifted off to sleep, and finally she closed her eyes and did the same.

_She only felt one emotion: fear. She was standing face-to-face with the Archdemon, his taint filling the air with evil. It stood on all fours, staring at her with its scorching eyes, those flaming, dark pupils. The beast screamed a deafening roar, surrounding the area, ready to devour anyone in its path. She was bare of any weapon and stood in her nightgown; she was powerless, hopelessly resigned to the fate of succumbing to this monster._

_The district was a deep forest, the trees were set ablaze, and the sky was a deep red. She was alone, all except for a crowd of soldiers standing about. They were armed, but were completely unaware of the situation that was occurring. Among the horde of people was Fergus, yelling her name in piercing cries. Her mother and father were there as well, holding onto one another in each other's arms. Oriana and Oren were amidst the people, as well; the boy clung to his crying mother's throat, screaming with terror into her chest. They were all fashioned in fancy clothing, as if they were attending a party. Soon they all called for her as the Archdemon neared closer and closer. She ran towards the group, but every step she took distorted her vision, blurring everything in sight. She fell onto side, sticks and rubble stabbing her flesh. Soon she could make out the Archdemon's figure. Instead of going for her, it went over to the cluster of hapless people, its movement slow and bloodcurdling. She screamed at it, for the last thing she wanted was for it to harm her family. It paid her no mind and whipped its long, pointed tail in a lashing sensation._

_She stood up and darted for them all, tears flying off her dirty cheeks. Her movements quick and agile, the Archdemon cackled at her, its foul breath emitting through its teeth. Suddenly, all of the soldiers turned to a shadowy gas that dissolved into the air, leaving only her family. She screamed louder, ran harder, cried more, but she could never reach them, it seemed. Every step she took drove her further back from them all. There was no way she could stop the beast._

_The Archdemon grabbed them all inside of its mouth, there bones crunching beneath its teeth. She wailed desperately, her lungs gasping for air, her heart beating in and out of time. She looked down at the palms of her hands, for she felt a strange pulsing inside of them. A thick shade of dark red oozed from the layer of dirt that caked her hands, dripping from in between the crevices of her fingers and onto the forest floor. Not only were her hands covered in grimy crimson liquid, but soon her arms and legs were smothered in blood. She frantically lifted the top of her nightgown that sheathed her upper body. Beneath her shirt were claw marks and deep scratches, and excruciating pain purged from within her stomach. The deep scrapes stretched all across her chest in an odd pattern, seeming as if they were made by some unholy creature._

_Crying with agony, she stared back at the Archdemon. It extended its broad wings and slowly rose from the forest floor, the flapping of its wings pushing heavy winds and particles of debris in all directions. The force of the air put her off balance, the dust crawling into her eyes as she fell down once more. She had no voice left to scream, to yell out for help. She urgently stood back up as the Archdemon soared into the dark sky and out of sight, her legs wobbling from terror, pain, and grief. Suddenly, she heard a rustle in the thorny bushes a few feet behind her. She quickly turned around, but only to be encountered with an oddly shaped beast. It charged towards her, screeching as it ran, and pummeled her to the ground. It pinned her down so she was immobile, then sank its sharp fangs into the side of her throat and-_

Rosemary sat up quickly in her bed, her breathing rapid and her face hot and red. Sweat trickled into her eyelids and beside her ears, tears pouring down her cheeks as she gasped for breath. She gazed out the window of her bedroom. The storm had stirred up once more, and heavy fragments of water slammed against the glass, lightning flickering occasionally in the night. Rosemary had a desperate urge to see her body, and pulled the top of her nightdress up and stared, but she found only clean skin. She could not remember what stirred her, what it was that had frightened her so terribly, but it was something malicious. She glanced over to Thaddeus. He barked in a hysterical and uncontrollable manner, lunging at the door of her bedroom. He snarled and growled like a ferocious monster, saliva running out from in between his rows of teeth.

She held the back of her head briefly, a powerful appearance of immense pain striking her. "What's wrong, boy?" Rosemary muttered. "Is someone out there?"

The mabari barked louder at her question, clawing and scratching at the wooden door. She knew that, similar to the incident in the larder, something was definitely wrong.

The sound of screams filled her ears, high and terrified ones, and came from somewhere outside her bedroom, as well as faint clashes of metal. Before she could get out of her bed, the door swung open, and an armed soldier stood panicked at the doorway. His face was distorted with an odd expression, the sword in his hand smeared with human blood.

"My lady!" he yelled. "Help me! The castle is under attack!"

She heard crossbows' fire from a distance, and the soldier instantly fell onto the stone floor, arrows punctured directly into his spine. Rosemary gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. She saw two soldiers that were not of their guild standing a few feet away, weapons in their hands, ready to kill her.

Thaddeus growled and darted outside the room, leaping over the corpse of the dead soldier. Her mind was rushing with all sorts of confusion. What was happening? Why had the castle been under siege in the dead of night, and who had been responsible for it? Was everyone all right?

Rosemary frantically dropped to the floor and reached for her daggers beneath her bed. She had nothing to protect her body, but she ran outside anyway, following her protective dog.

Thaddeus had ran after an archer when she appeared, tearing at the man's chest with his powerful jaws, and after a moment or two of configuring a plan, Rosemary felt an arm tighten around her neck. She pulled away from the soldier that had her locked, slipping from his grasp right in time before he thrust a pike into her spine. She turned around quickly and went for the man's chest, though he defensively blocked her move with his weapon. The soldier shoved her onto the ground, his pike nearly slicing her chest. She rolled over to one side just as he stuck his blade into the ground, the metal of it dulling against the stone as he failed to kill her. Still on the ground, Rosemary swept her leg out, tripping the man. He fell flat on the floor, his nose slamming against the cobblestone. She immediately stood up and drove one of her daggers into his back, blood spurting out from the wound. She wiggled it around, making sure he was dead.

Rosemary watched herself slaughter the soldier. It had happened so quickly that she took a man's life. She felt stiff as a board, watching his blood wither near her feet. She gasped and quickly pulled out her weapon. She was bare of words. Rosemary ran to her mabari's side. He breathed heavily, his brawny chest sucking in and out. He stared up at her, his brown eyes full of energy. The dog barked at her, his teeth shaded a deep red color, his tongue dripping with spit. She didn't know how to respond or what to say… at the time, she was in upmost confusion.

A wooden door up ahead pushed open with violent force. Thaddeus and Rosemary stood readily for another fight, though it was not a guard who had burst through the doorway, but her own beloved mother, a terrified look upon her face. She was clad in reinforced armor made of tough drakeskin, skinned from the hide of a mighty dragon, as their father had told them. Wrapped firmly in one of her hands was a longbow, the limbs of it decorated with exquisite patterns. She ran over to the two of them, her hair pulled tightly in the back of her head.

"Darling!" she said. "I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst! Are you hurt?"

"I was about to ask you that!" she replied.

"They never got through to the door, thanks to you," her mother said to her. She glanced behind her to check if they were safe for the time being. "A scream woke me up," she spoke. "There were men in the hall, so I barred the door." She walked to one of the soldiers lying on the floor and pointed to his shield. A striking crest was engraved into the iron of the shield, intertwining golden vines surrounding the letter H. Rosemary gasped, for she had not taken notice… Arl Rendon Howe!

"These are Howe's men!" her mother exclaimed, returning to her the girl's side. "Why would they attack us?!"

Rosemary clenched her fists around her swords so hard that her knuckles turned white. His men weren't late… they were just waiting for the right time to invade the castle! But why… why would Arl Rendon Howe, a good friend of her father's, turn against the Couslands and start another war than the one already present? It didn't make sense… but she knew one thing: they needed to find her father, and fast.

"He's betrayed Father," she spoke, fury rushing through her body. "He attacks while our troops are gone!"

Rosemary's mother squint her eyes, gritting her teeth so hard Rosemary could almost hear them grinding. "That bastard!" she grumbled. "I'll cut his lying throat myself!"

Rosemary stood quietly, the pain she had earlier revisiting like a preying ghoul…

"Have you seen your Father?" Mother asked her, her face struck in horror. "He never came to bed!"

"Maybe he stayed up with the Arl," Rosemary suggested. Thaddeus whined at her reply, thinking of the worst that could have happened.

"We must find him!" Mother exclaimed, her voice full of fear.

"We should check on Oriana and Oren as well," Rosemary told her, though as soon as she did, he mother became even more panic-stricken. "Andraste's mercy!" she cried. "What if the soldiers went into your brother's room first?" Rosemary was instantly filled with anxiety at Mother's inquiry. What if… what if the soldiers had burst through Fergus's private quarters, where little Oren and his mother slept soundly in their beds? Fergus was long gone with a troop of other recruits, most likely several miles deep into the woods, brushing past the dark wilderness and on his way to aid King Cailan. There was nobody in that quiet room to defend the two innocents, to defeat the group of soldiers that had, or would, that is, creep in and kill them. They had to make sure they were alright… they had to have still been alive… _oh, Maker, please, just let them live…_ Rosemary thought to herself.

Her mother grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the room and down the hallway, Thaddeus following close behind them. "We must find them, quickly!" she exclaimed as she let loose of the grasp on her wrist. "Then we'll look for Bryce downstairs!"

Before they reached Fergus's room, a well dressed soldier darted out from the corner up ahead. He was sheathed in burnished armor crafted from red steel, and a tall helm was positioned tightly on his head, silver wings extending from the sides of it. The helm revealed his entire face so his enemies could look into his eyes, his harsh, blue eyes. A sly curl turned his lips upwards, his plan to murder her and her mother beginning to unfold as he took slow steps toward them.

"You two…" he whispered, his voice croaking, "The commander wants you dead." He chuckled. "And it should be an easy task. You're just some royal whores, is all." He tightened his hand around the haft of his waraxe, so tight that Rosemary could nearly hear his palm rubbing against it. The weapon was sharp and the tip of it twinkled like a star in the night sky. The blade of the axe was crudely shaped like a pendulum, capable of slicing deep into your skin as easily as the snap of a finger. She hesitated as the soldier drew nearer, but her mother retrieved an arrow from the leather quiver on her back, pulling the string of her bow back as the pointed arrow rested in between her fingers. She shut one of her eyes, staring down the man as she waited for the right time to shoot. He furrowed his eyebrows, strategizing how he would kill the old bitch. The soldier then decided to dart straight for them, his thick iron boots thudding against the cold wooden floor. He yelled a bellowing howl, chopping his axe wildly about in the air. Her mother, now sure her shot was going to be accurate, let go of both the arrow and string. The long projectile immediately soared towards the soldier, cutting the air with its sharp head, a small breeze of wind pushing from the speed of the arrow. As she had hoped, the point of the arrowhead stabbed straight into the soldier's forehead, piercing directly in between his two sinister eyes. He lost track of his footing, his legs shaking, the black pupils in his eyes slowly creeping to the back of his eyelids. The man's head pivoted as he fell backward onto the hard floor, the ground shaking as his body plunged into the wood. Rosemary stood in shock; this man hadn't even touched them, made a single tear or scratch on them, and her mother had killed him with a single arrow. How precise her shooting was… she had no idea she could even handle a bow.

They carefully made their way to Fergus's bedroom, cautiously clearing the way down the hallway. They heard fighting, but most of it had seemed to be taking place downstairs. Very few of Howe's men had yet to discover the upper level where they stood, but it would only be a matter of time before a large group of them would barge up the flight of stairs. It was such a mystery to Rosemary as to why this had suddenly happened, why Howe would cruelly turn against them, especially during this time, when the darkspawn were appearing in building numbers from the south. His men _**were**_ purposely late, this they were sure of, but what of the man, whose lovely wife and rambunctious children spent many days at their castle, the man who was her father's best friend? Why were they an enemy to him now? They couldn't have been any sort of threat to him. He was the Arl of Denerim, living a life of luxury in the capital of Ferelden, the presumed holy city to the worshippers of Andraste, as it was her birthplace. The reason this man ordered his soldiers to storm the castle and slaughter anyone in sight wasn't clear… at least it wasn't yet. She was going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what. They reached the doorway of Fergus's quarters. The door was swung open, and the room was enclosed in darkness. She looked at Mother with a worried expression, not sure if Oren and Oriana were alright like they had presumed. She already began to cry, tears welling up in her hazel eyes, water streaming down her cheeks. Thaddeus whimpered, burying the side of his furry head into her leg. Rosemary stepped inside the room, the blackness consuming her shadow. Her mother and pet followed behind her, unprepared to witness what they already knew had happened.

Though it was dark, she could still see what she needed to.

Lying on the floor were the two corpses of her young nephew and sister-in-law. Their throats were cut open, two long gashes in each of their necks. Blood still crawled from the slits, spreading out onto the cold floor. Their eyes were open, staring into the emptiness of the bedroom. Their faces appeared to be frozen into a distorted and frightened expression, their mouths turned into frowns. Little Oren, his once nicely parted hair that was combed by his mother, was now messy and pulled, pieces of his brown hair ripped from his scalp from where the soldiers had grabbed him by the head; he had been reluctant to doing as the armed men had said. And Oriana, her entire body soaked in blood from her chest down, her dress ripped and mangled.

"Now stand still, boy."

_A soldier grabbed Oren by the shoulders, digging his fingers into his arms, for the child had refused to go with him and the rest of his group. The boy cried out for his mother, who was in the grasp of another soldier. Her eyes were filled with tears as the man clamped his hand around her mouth, silencing her screams. The soldier had a sword pointed into her back, just in case Oriana tried to escape from him. He chuckled as the woman who kicked and struggled under his hold, wanting her son to be safe from harm. The boy wiggled underneath the hands of the brawny soldier, though the man only pulled tufts of his hair from his head. _"You stop, boy!"

_The other soldiers watched as the man ripped the nightgown from Oriana's body. She screamed again from beneath the man's palm, her black hair dripping with sweat. Oren, struck with horror of what they would do to his mother, squirmed even more. The man smacked the back of his head and said roughly _"Watch now, boy."_ Full of fear, Oren was forced to watch his mother and the soldier. But he shut his eyes tightly and yelled _"Mama!",_ drops of tears bursting from underneath his eyelids. He was not sure why this evil man was handling his mother in such a strange way, something that his papa would never allow. He cried for his father, his throat dry and cracked. He knew his papa was off riding in battle with who he called the "good guys", helping to slay big creatures so that everyone would be safe. But Oren only thought that the bad guys were the darkspawn. He did not know that people could be just as evil and twisted as well._

_The young boy wished his father was here; to fight off these men, drive them from him and his mother so they could wake up from this nightmare. But it was not a dream. It was real, and little Oren knew this. He listened to his mother cry in terror and pain, the soldiers laugh and cackle. But he did not reopen his pupils. He didn't want to witness his mother being tortured, no matter what the cruel man had told him to do, even if he yanked his hair or hit him or clawed his nails deep into his skin until blood appeared. He would not open his eyes until his mother stopped screaming._

_When Oren opened his eyes, he saw his mother covered in red, lying on the floor in her undergarments. _"Mama!"_ he cried. The soldiers peered at the young boy, walking towards him with their long blades in their hands._

"Mama!"_ But the poor woman did not respond to her son. She lay motionless on the ground, her eyes staring at the ceiling, her blood-soaked body slurring the floor near the soldiers' feet. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. The bad men had gotten to him first before he could cry to her one last time._

Rosemary buried her face in her hands, tears pouring out her eyes. Her heart sank to the bottom of her chest. It was so unbearable, so unbelievable that Howe would order his men to kill her family. It would only be a matter of time before they would kill her father, if they hadn't already, and then she and her mother. What they would do to her dog, Maker knows what, but they would eventually find Fergus, if he lived after the battle, and murder him. That is, if they didn't stop them.

"No!" her mother cried, kneeling down to the floor next to her grandson. She put her hands on his chest, blood staining her palms. She whimpered as did Rosemary, their breathing rapid and unnatural. "Not my little Oren!"

She dropped her head, water draining from her eyes. Her face was mottled, her wrinkled hands trembling with grief. She could barely make out the words "What manner of fiend murders innocents?!"

Rosemary shook her head, not knowing what to tell her. "Why would they do this?!" She asked her, weeping with sorrow as her dog remained silent, nudging his snout against Oriana's arm. Her mother stood back up, her knees shaking. She furrowed her brows and clenched her fists, now turning her sadness into anger. "Howe is not even taking hostages!" she said, her voice full of rage. She stared at her daughter, all sorts of emotions running through her. "He means to kill all of us!"

She thought of her son, who thought his wife and son were safe and warm under the roof of the large castle, sleeping soundly as he was camping in the woods. He believed that everyone was alright. It would take days, weeks, months, even, for him to even know that the castle had been under attack. And then he would have to hear the news that his spouse and child had been killed.

"Oh, poor Fergus…" Mother whispered, wiping her forehead that was beaded with sweat, "let's go." She walked to the doorway, mumbling things under her breath that Rosemary was too busy crying to listen to. "I don't want to see this."

The three of them fought their way to a large hallway inside the castle. Soldiers had eventually found a way to the upper level, so when the three stepped out of Fergus's room, they encountered a band of them. With her mother's useful skill of bows and arrows, they killed the men without much difficulty. She would fire from a distance while Thaddeus and Rosemary ran to the group, he biting and tearing at some of the soldier's shins as she stabbed and parried. They made a good party together, able to fight against Howe's men as they had not expected. "Do you hear the fighting?" her mother questioned as they hid inside a dark corner of the large hallway. She was calm now, as was Rosemary, trying to focus on finding Father instead of grieving over something they could not change. She drew a quick breath of air. "Howe's men must be everywhere," she said.

There was much clanging of swords within the castle, many war cries coming from various guards. Very few of Highever's soldiers had stayed at the castle, and everyone else must have taken up arms against Howe's men as well. The fighting was so bad that a fire had been started somewhere. They had not seen it yet, but the smell of choking smoke clogged their lungs as they continued throughout the castle.

Rosemary leaned up against the stone wall in the corner, resting her back for a moment. "What should we do?" she asked Eleanor, grazing her finger over a cut along her arm. It wasn't very deep, and the blood had already dried and scabbed over. It was long, though, running up her elbow and down to her wrist.

"The front gates," Mother answered finally, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway. "That's where your father must be," she said.

Rosemary looked at her with confusion. Yes, she had to find her father; he might have been in grave danger, but the image of a deceiving man lingered in her thoughts. "We can't just let Howe win!" she hissed. Didn't she want to find him first, kill him for all he'd done? Andraste's sake, he murdered their family!

Her mother looked at her with her soft eyes, just as she did when they were discussing matters much earlier that day, before evening had fallen. "Listen, darling," she said, "we haven't much time. If we can't find your father, you _**must**_ get out of here alive." She wiped the hair that covered part of Rosemary's eye behind her ear. "Without you and Fergus," she said, "the entire Cousland line dies here."

Her spine shivered with fear. If they didn't find Father… no, they were going to find her father no matter what, and they would all escape together. She went on as they still hid in the shadows of the room, Thaddeus waiting silently. "Howe's men are inside, so they must already control the castle. We must use the servants' larder to escape. Do you hear me?"

Rosemary nodded at her. She would find her own time to discover where Howe would be hiding, and once she did, then the Arl of Denerim would fall to her blades.

She started for the door that she had pointed her finger at, the entryway to more and more soldiers as well as the way to the gates. "Then let us be swift," she said, Thaddeus and Rosemary following her lead.

They raced down a long stairway, brushing past fallen men and chunks of debris along the steps. Once they reached the bottom, a panicked man stood near the corner. He was in his breeches, his hair frizzed and sweaty. He seemed to be one of the commoners that had been staying at the castle. He ran to them, relieved that safety had appeared. "The castle has fallen!" he yelled over the sound of the fighting and shouting soldiers. "I'm getting out of here!"

Rosemary bent down and grabbed a sword once used by one of their fellow guards. It was smothered in blood and bits of dirt collected from the ground, but it could be wielded as a useful weapon. She handed it to the man, his hands shaking with fear once he felt the heaviness of the blade. He gave her a worried expression; he had obviously never fought before.

"Don't be a coward!" Rosemary said to the commoner. "Stand and fight!" He gasped, his jaw dropping down to his chin, though he quickly nodded his head at her command. "Y-yes, my lady," he replied, looking down at the sword.

There was a loud crash from across the room and down the next hallway. For a moment, all was silent, the castle, the soldiers, everything. But shortly after the startling sound, a small army of Howe's men poured from the hallway and towards them.

"Here… here they come!" the frantic commoner yelled, preparing for a dangerous fight. He stood in an attack position, though he was still scared out of his mind.

This group was even more enraged then the previous groups they had battled. Their eyes were bloodshot, the pupils in them large as if they were swallowing their eyeballs. Their faces were red hot, blood and sweat dripping from their jaws. Some of them had axes and swords, some had sharpened daggers, and some even wielded huge greatswords that required both of their hands. Eleanor, Thaddeus, the terrified man, and Rosemary dove straight towards them. They stabbed and kicked, blocked and dodged. Thankfully though, for the four of them could not handle the overwhelming number of enemies, a clan of Cousland soldiers had followed behind Howe's men. They entered briefly after his men had surrounded the four, firing crossbows at them and gouging their swords into the soldiers' backs.

Breathing sharply, they left for the gates with the puzzled man following their trail. He eventually left towards the escape route in the larder, bidding them farewell and thanking them for protecting him. The man darted from sight and to the kitchens, leaving the three to fend for themselves once again.

They passed by the Main Hall on their way, where the gate leading outside led. A horrible ruckus had erupted; small fires had been lit in the hall, setting ablaze curtains and rugs, the flames' smoke slithering in the air. Deceased soldiers, both Howe and Cousland, were lying on the floor, and weaponry was scattered about. Many men were inside, slaughtering one another, but there was one man that caught her eye.

They ran inside to help defend Highever's men against Denerim's. Rosemary looked at Ser Gilmore as she kicked a guard down and pierced his chest, blood spewing on her face. He was standing with his back against a large door with several other Cousland soldiers. The door was shaking madly, Howe's men attempting to get through to the opposite side.

After the three of them, as well as the Cousland guards, finished off the last of the soldiers in the Main Hall, Ser Gilmore left his position and ran over to Rosemary. He motioned at the guards to take his hold on the door. "Go!" he ordered. "Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!"

Rosemary could clearly see why Duncan would want to recruit Ser Gilmore. He was a fine man, polite and humorous, and had great leadership to his fellow soldiers. The man was an excellent warrior, and his determination was higher than anyone's she'd ever seen.

Ser Gilmore walked over to them, his red hair nearly identical in color to the blood that was splattered on his face and plated armor. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were weary, and he was beaded in sweat.

"My ladyship!" he sighed with relief, looking at her mother. He then stared at Rosemary and exclaimed "My lady! You're both alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through!"

"They did get through!" Rosemary told him, droplets of sweat slipping onto her eyelashes. Ser Gilmore exhaled sharply, hoping that none of Howe's men had poured throughout the rest of the castle. "Have you seen my father?!" she asked in a worryingly tone of voice.

"He was looking for you two," Ser Gilmore explained. "He told us to hold the hall for as long as possible." The man turned and looked back at the men holding the door shut, pressing their backs on the wood, pushing their hands against it with all their might. "When I realized what was happening," Ser Gilmore said, "it was all I could do to shut the gates." He turned back around, a scared expression on his face. "But they won't keep Howe's men out long!" He stepped closer to Rosemary, putting his hands on her shoulders. "If you've another way out of the castle, use it quickly!" She nodded as he stood there, worried for the both of them, if they could escape Howe's treacherous plan. Suddenly she remembered Duncan, the quiet man she had met earlier that day. It was strange… they had not seen or heard of him ever since they discovered the castle being attacked.

"Where is the Grey Warden?" Rosemary asked. Ser Gilmore glanced at Eleanor, who was behind her, a blank look on both of their faces. "I've no idea!" Ser Gilmore mumbled, shaking his head in confusion as he glared down at the floor. He instantly looked up at her, his eyes big and struck with fear. "You don't think he's involved in this, do you?" Ser Gilmore questioned. She certainly didn't want to believe it, but… it was possible he and Howe had sided together to bring the Couslands down. It was impossible though! The Grey Wardens were legends of history, conscripted for the greater good of banding together to defeat Blights. She thought of Duncan trying to murder them simply unreal…

Her mother spoke up from behind her daughter, her voice quiet as she thought aloud. "Perhaps he… was sent to kill Bryce?" She gasped with horror, for it could have been true, the man could have been out to eliminate her father. "Oh dear…" she muttered, "Have you seen him?"

There was a loud banging at the door, and the soldiers bodies shook against the door. More of Howe's men had appeared from outside the gate, and Highever's men had to be prepared to fight soon. "When I last saw the teyrn," Ser Gilmore said, focusing his eyes back on her mother and from the door, "he'd been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you."

She looked at her mother, and her face was full of terror. Her father had insisted on finding his family rather than being treated for his severe wounds, and the thought made Rosemary quiver with uncertainty. Ser Gilmore went on, trying to comfort them by saying "He went towards the kitchen," motioning his hand toward a door to the far left of them. "I believe he thought to find you at the servant's exit in the larder."

Eleanor smiled slightly, a tear streaking down her face. "Bless you, Ser Gilmore," she said. "Maker watch over you!"

"May He watch over us all," Ser Gilmore said as she began for the door. Rosemary stayed where she was for the moment, in front of Ser Gilmore, wishing him farewell… if…

"Ser Gilmore," she said, looking at him with worry in her soul, "if something happens to you, or to I, or to all of us, even, I want you to know that you are a great friend of mine." He smiled, finding a moment a peace and happiness in all this despair. She went on. "Try to hold them back. Lead your men well during the fighting. You would make an excellent Grey Warden, I bet."

He hugged her tightly in his arms, her good friend saying goodbye. "And to you, Rosemary," he said. "You'd be an even better Warden. You're kind, beautiful, and an excellent fighter." He let go and looked into her eyes. If he saw her after the battle, then maybe…

"Farewell, for the time being," he whispered. "I…I hope I'll get to see you again." She nodded, tears running down her face. She knew, and he knew as well, that they would most likely not be able to hold up the castle much longer, and that Howe would either take the remaining soldiers with him or just kill them. Rosemary didn't want to lose one of her best friends…the other being her dog, but she wasn't going to let him die in this tragedy.

"Now go," Ser Gilmore instructed. "I won't let you get killed by Howe." Rosemary whimpered as she waved to him, darting to where her mother waited for her, Thaddeus running behind her. He ran back to hold the door that now shook so violently it seemed as if it would break off of its hinges. Her heart felt weak and heavy, seeming as if it was slowly dropping down to into her stomach. She was almost certain that she would never see Ser Gilmore again, but what she needed to focus on was her dearest father, who was in great danger.


End file.
